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DELHI UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 




Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide. 
In thy most need to go by thy side. 

☆ 

EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY 


No. 164 


ESSAYS 


THE SPECTATOR 

BY JOSP.l’H ADDISON, RICHARD STEELE, 
AND 01 liras. EDITED BY G. GREGORY SMITH 


IN 4 VOLS. 


VOL. 1 



JOSEPH ADDISON, born at Milston in Wilt¬ 
shire, 1(172; educated at 1 ichfleld Grainnvi 
School, tin' Cdiarterhouse, and Maedalcri 
C\>ll( i;;e, Oxiord, wliere In* was a Detny and 
lellow. M.P. lor Malmesbury, Under-Secre¬ 
tary ol State, Secretary of the Irish Govern¬ 
ment, and Sec retary c^F State' in 1 neland, he 
died in i y 1at llolland I louse, his wile’s 
I ondon residence. 

Sill KICMAllD STldiLF, born at Dublin in 
I (->72; I'duc ated at the- C'harterhuuse .irul 
Merton College', Oxhard. 1 h', was electe'd 
M.P. lor Stoe klaridee in 1713, lor Borpueh- 
brid”i‘ in 171^ (in u Inch ye^r he was knighted ), 
and lor We'ndoNer in 17?,’. He died at 
l.langunnor in 1725?. 



THE SPECTATOR 



VOLUMi; ONI' 


INTKOrHTCTJONf IJV 

1 ETI R SMll lllJES, O.I'IIIL. {(>XUN.) 


LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD 

NEW YORK: E. F. DUTTON & CO. INC. 



All rights reserved 
by 

J. M. DKNT & SONS LTD 
Alcline House • BeclFord Street • L ondon 
Made in Great Britain 
at 

The Aldinc Press • Letchworth • Herts 
First published in this edition i*)07 
Reset, with minor revisions, 194^ 
Last reprinted 1957 



PREFACE 


The purpose of this reprint of the Spectator is to preserve the 
original freshness of the text. Even as early as 1764 ' innumer¬ 
able corruptions' had crept in, to the sorrow of the editor of the 
Reliqiies of Ancient English Poetry. He was persuaded to 
undertake a new edition; but his plan was interrupted. It was 
left to the Bissets and the Chalmerses, and the cheap retailers 
of their texts, to set a detestable fashion of flamboyant emenda¬ 
tion. In this plight the Spectator remained till 1868, when the 
late Mr Henry Morley brought out his one-volume edition, 
which claimed to reproduce ‘the original text, both as first 
issued, and as corrected by its authors.’ An edition in eight 
volumes appeared in 1897-8, under the care of the present 
editor, who collated the text and prepared fresh illustrative 
notes. The edition now offered in four volumes is a reprint of 
that work. Errors in the first issue have been corrected, and 
supplementary notes have been included. 

The Spectator was published daily, in single sheets of foolscap 
folio, printed, in double columns, on both sides. The first 
number appeared on ist March 1711, and the last on 6th 
December 1712. The sheets were afterwards republished in 
monthly parts; and in November 1711 a revised edition in 
octavo volumes was announced. Two volumes, ‘well bound 
and gilt, two guineas,’ were issued to the subscribers on 8th 
January 1712, by ‘ S. Buckley, at the Dolphin in Little-Britain, 
and J. Tonson, at Shakespear’s-Head, over-against Catherine- 
street in the Strand.' The third and fourth appeared some 
time in April of that year; and the fifth, sixth, and seventh 
early in? 1713. These seven volumes constitute the Second or 
First Collected edition, and with an eighth, edited by Addison 
in 1715, from the supplementary papers which he had pub¬ 
lished from 18th June to 20th December 1714, supply the text 
of the present edition. The collected edition has the superior 
interest of showing the final form in which the writers desired 
to leave their work. In it and its immediate reprints, rather 
than in the stray sheets of the earlier issue, the contemporaries 
of Steel and Addison found their amusement and sought their 
models of style. Had the latter been reprinted, it would have 
been necessary to incorporate the many errata indicated in the 
columns of the early issue, with the result that we should have 

V 



vi PREFACE 

had neither the Spectator of the ' tea-equipage ’ nor the care¬ 
fully revised edition. 

It is hoped that the reproduction of the antifiue manner of 
the original in regard to spelling, punctuation, italics, and 
capital letters will not be condemned as antitjuarian pedantry. 
A slight perusal must convince the reader that these are not to 
be excused as the caprice of the printer or the lazy fancy of the 
editors. The punctuation is rhetf)rical rather than logical, and 
should not, any more than should the old-fashioned guise of a 
few words, mar the simple enjoyment of the most modern 
reader. Printers’ errors are, of cour.se, not reproduced: and a 
few slight alterations (which are duly noted) have been made 
to avoid misunderstanding. The most serious interference is 
in the case of such plurals as Opera's, and such posscssives as 
Peoples, which have been changed to Operas and People’s — 
forms which are found in the original text. The Latin and 
Greek mottoes and quotations have been revised. Many of 
them seem to have been written down, like Steele’s story of Mr. 
Inkle, ‘as they dwelt upon the memory,’ though not always 
with the same literary plea.sure to the reader. Verbal errors 
and impossible verses in the quotations in the text have been 
corrected; but the fashion of contemporary scholarship has 
been preserved, for it would have been an historical impropriety 
to supplant the worthy Tonson by the more learned Teubner. 
The extracts from English writers have been left untouched. 
The memorial ingenuity shown in these is often too interesting 
to be lost; and sometimes the passages were intentionally mis¬ 
quoted. The reader will find the chief deviations from the 
original b’xts indicated in the Notes. Verses, such as Pope’s 
Messiah or Addison's ‘Pieces of Divine I^oetry,' which were 
printed for the fir.st time in the Spectator, are given in the 
orclihary type of the Papers; but the quoted passages have been 
set up in type of a smaller size. The humorous ‘Advertise¬ 
ments ' which reappeared in the Collected Edition will be found 
in their places in these volumes. Some of the original advertise¬ 
ments, in small type of the kind which Mr. Bickerstaff com¬ 
mended for ‘ giving the reader something like the satisfaction 
of prying into a secret,’ arc referred to in the Notes, when they 
illustrate the text of the Papers. The page of this edition is 
smaller, but it contains a larger portion of the letterpress. 

The editor ventures to claim that he has avoided excess in 
the seductive record of Various Readings, and that he has made 
the few notes of ‘different senses’ and ‘new elegances’ in 
respectful obedience to Mr Spectator’s editorial canon. In 
the notes proper he has endeavoured, when possible, to explain 
matters by the aid of contemporary writings. Of these the 



PREFACE 


vii 

Taller stands first in importance, not merely because it came as 
a kind of prelude to the Spectator, but because it was the direct 
model for the literary plan and details of the later journal. 
The older annotated editions of the Spectator have been 
examined with some ])rofit, though not without a fixed sus¬ 
picion of their authority; and use has been made of Mr Henry 
Morley’s edition, and of Mr Austin Dobson’s Selections from 
Steele and other well-known volumes. 

The Biographical Index in the fourth volume contains a brief 
account of all contemporary persons mentioned in the Spectator. 
In the Subject Index only the page references arc given, as the 
addition of a brief description would have seriously increased 
the bulk of the last volume. 

The text is printed from the copy in the Library of the 
University of Kdinburgli; that of the original sixth volume, 
which is missing, is suj^plied from the copy in the British 
Museum. The whole has been collated with the set of original 
sheets in the Advocates' Library, some of which once graced 
the tables of Sam’s Coffee-house in Ludgate Street. 

C. GKiiGORY Smith. 


Other editions of the Spectator appeared in 1720-30; 1744; 1765; 
1778; witli illustrative notes, and Lives of the Authors, by Bisset, 
1793* ^7941 with Prefaces, historical and biographical, by A. Chal¬ 
mers, six volumes, 1864; the original text, with Introduction, Notes, 
and Index, by H. Morley, 1868, 1887, 1888 (Routledge’s Popular 
Library); the original text, edited and annotated by G. Gregory 
Smith, and with an introductory essay by Austin Dobson, eight 
volumes, 1897-8; with introduction and notes by G. A. Aitken, 
eight volumes, 1898. The Spectator has also appeared in several 
series, among them in the ‘British Classics,’ and the ‘British 
Essayists.' 



INTRODUCTION 


The spectator was the greatest literary triumph of its time. 
Immediate fame, pujmlarity, admiration, and financial success 
were the rewards of its authors. During the eighteenth and 
nineteenth centuries it was a basic text second only to the 
Bible in its influence upon British manners and morals, and it 
remained the most popular model for English prose composition. 
In the twentieth century it is a basic authority for the social 
historian, unrivalled in its own period for the variety of 
intimate detail which it reveals eith(T directly or by inference. 
Its part in the formation of that outlook and character which 
distinguish the British middle class and which reached their 
climax, after two centuries of development, in the later 
Victorian period, would repay a full investigation. 

The Spectator appeared in an age amply supplied with litera¬ 
ture. Writing was a popular part-time occupation of all 
literate classes, whether as an elegant accomplishment, or in the 
quest for fame or a living, or for political, social, or scientific 
purposes. The numerous London presses and some provincial 
ones poured forth books, pamphlets, broadsheets, and periodi¬ 
cals in astonishing profusion. In this torrent of composition 
and publication the Spectator was easily distinguishable not by 
reason of any individual novel feature, but because it combined 
so many points of strength. Based upon Steele's experience in 
publishing the Gazette and the Tatter, it was technically efficient 
as a vehicle for its’authors' purpose. The principal authors, 
Addi.son and Steele, wrote a direct and elegant prose easily 
recognized as superior to tlie main stream of contemporary 
literature, and perf(?ctly matched with the content of the paper. 
The purj^osc of the authors was to amuse and to reform, to 
extend elegant amusement and rational redorm from the circle 
of wits and divines to that of literate mankind as a whole, and 
to appeal to women equally with men. 

The early Tatlers had been composite papers, made up of 
news, elegant trifles, and more serious items. In the Spectator 
the trumpet of reform was sounded long and clear. Not merely 
were whole papers devoted to serious subjects, but whole 
series of papers, such as those upon the ‘Pleasures of the 
Imagination,’ dealt with such subjects exhaustively. A com¬ 
plete man or woman was one who had developed the faculties 
of the mind to the maximum extent of wliich they were capable, 
viii 



INTRODUCTION 


IX 


The Spectator explained how tliat could be done. A virtuous 
citizen was one who applied those faculties usefully. The 
reward of virtue would be happiness in this world and the next. 
But unlike contemporary sermons, whose content and purpose 
were often similar, the Spectators were and I'emain highly enter¬ 
taining. Because they sprang from the society of the wits with 
its connections with the aristf)cracy alike of birth and intellect, 
they exhaled the Im^ath of high fashion. The appeal to the 
reader was thus fourfold: amusement, intellectual and social 
snobbery, a serious purpose of reform, and the material rewards 
of virtue. 

Addison and Steele were at this time admirably suited to 
complement and sustain each other. Steele with his know¬ 
ledge of the gay life, with a ready wit and ])en, and with his 
practical experience of publication, was nunforced by Addison's 
weighty reputation as a poet, critic, and scholar, now known to 
be a rising administrator and politician, and by his inimitable 
gift of humour. Steele's impetuous zeal and initiative were 
balanced by Addison's cautious yet penetrating wisdom. To 
the ladies, Steele was the would-be virtuous lover who flattered 
because his better self fell such an easy victim in the face of 
female temptation. Addison was the virtuous admirer, who 
flattered by inviting women to .share his world of intellectual 
distinction upon almost equal terms. Together they combined 
qualities of creative genius which no single personality could 
contain, and around them they gathered a circle of occasional 
contributors who were inspired by their work and wrote in their 
vein. 

It is not difficult to identify the merits of the Spectator as 
literature, as journalism, as morality, or as propaganda. But 
the external circumstances which enabled its authors to trans¬ 
late merit into immediate success and permanent achievement, 
are part of the history of Britain. The peculiar conditions 
which ensured success were two. Firstly, after a century of 
puritan and cavalier excesses, England was ready for an 
attitude towards life which would encourage right living with¬ 
out severity and which would equally encourage pleasure 
without licentiousness. Secondly, John Locke, Isaac Newton, 
Christopher Wren, and their contemporaries in other arts and 
sciences had shown how the human mind could expand its 
faculties by applying the process of reason in every direction. 
The authors of the Spectator took the materials ready to their 
hands and transformed them into papers which would be under¬ 
stood, enjoyed, and approved by almost all literate men and 
women. , 

The permanent achievement of the authors of the Spectator 

I_♦ 164 



X 


INTRODUCTION 


is explained by a single fact. They wrote at the beginning of 
the rise of a British middle class. They wrote for that class 
even though it was not particularly numerous by later com¬ 
parisons. And as the middle class multiplied in strength, 
wealth, and influence, so did the readers of the Spectator. It is 
probably not a coincidence that when the middle class in the 
Victorian sense of the word began to decay, the Spectator fell 
abruptly from the first rank of literature prescribed for intensivt* 
study by every educated child. Yet there arc other reasons 
for this decline. A temporary one is to be found in the habit, 
now fortunately dying, of devaluing almost everything which 
the Victorians admired and respected. As the Victorians and 
their attitude towards life pass into the perspective of history, 
the Spectator will stand out as a signpost to mankind upon its 
journey; for it showed Engli.shmen how to pass beyond the 
great virtues into that assembly of lesser sound practices which 
together will always govern the conduct of highly civilized men 
and women. 'J'his task was so completely achieved that mucli 
of the teaching of the Spectator has been incorporated in the 
British character and habits of life, and has passed to our 
generation not through the words of Addison or Steele, but 
from the teaching of our parents and grandparents who were 
their pupils. 

House of Commons, 

1056. 


Pktek Smithers. 



TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 


JOHN LORD SOMMERS, 

BARON OF EVESHAM. 


My LORD, 

I SHOULD not act the Part of an impartial Spectator, if I 
Dedicated the following Papers to one who is not of the most 
consummate and most acknowledged Merit. 

None but a person of a finished Character can be the proper 
Patron of a Work, which endeavours to Cultivate and Polish 
Human Life, by promoting Virtue and Knowledge, and by 
recommending whatsoever may be either Useful or Ornamental 
to Society. 

I know that the Homage I now pay You, is offering a kind 
of Violence to one who is as solicitous to shun Applause, as he is 
assiduous to deserve it. But, my Lord, this is perhaps the only 
Particular in which your Prudence will be always disappointed. 

While Justice, Candor, Equanimity, a Zeal for the Good 
of your Country, and the most persuasive Eloquence in 
bringing over others to it, are valuable Distinctions, You are 
not to expect that the Publick will so far comply with your 
Inclinations, as to forbear celebrating such extraordinary 
Qualities. It is in vain that You have endeavoured to conceal 
your Share of Merit, in the many National Services which You 
have effected. Do what You will, the present Age will be 
talking of your Virtues, the’ Posterity alone will do them 
Justice. 

Other Men pass through Oppositions and contending In¬ 
terests in the Ways of Ambition, but Your Great Abilities have 
been invited to Power, and importuned to accept of Advance¬ 
ment. Nor is it strange that this should happen to your 
Lordship, who could bring into the Service of Your Sovereign 
the Arts and Policies of Ancient Greece and Rome', as well as 
the most exact Knowledge of our own Constitution in par¬ 
ticular, and of the interests of Europe in general; to which T 
must also add, a certain Dignity in Yourself, that (to say the 
least of it) has been always equal to those great Honours 
which have been conferred upon You. 

It is very well known how much the Church owed to You 
in the most dangerous Day it ever saw, that of the Arraign¬ 
ment of its Ihrelates; and how far the Civil Power, in the Later 
I 



2 THE SPECTATOR 

and present Reign, has been indebted to your Counsels and 
Wisdom. 

But to enumerate the great Advantages which the publick 
has received from your Administration, would be a more proper 
Work for an History, than for an Address of this Nature. 

Your Lordship appears as great in your Private Life, as in 
the most Important Offices which You have born, I would 
therefore rather chuse to speak of the Pleasure You afford all 
who are admitted into your Conversation, of Your Elegant 
Taste in all the Polite Parts of Learning, of Your great 
Humanity and Complacency of Manners, and of the surprising 
Influence which is peculiar to You in making every one who 
Converses with your Lordship prefer You to himself, without 
thinking the less meanly of his own Talents. But if I should 
take notice of all that might be observed in your Lordship, I 
should have nothing new to say upon any other Character of 
Distinction. 

I am. 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's 

most Obedient, 

most Devoted 

Humble Servant, 

THE SPECTATOR, 



THE SPECTATOR. 

VOL. I. 


No. I. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, March i, 

Non fumum ex furore, sed ex fumo dare lucem 

Cogitat, ut spcciosa dehinc miractda promat. —Ilor. 

I HAVE observed, that a Reader seldom peruses a Book with 
Pleasure, ’till he loiows whether the Writer of it be a black or 
a fair Man, of a mild or cholerick Disposition, Married or a 
Batchelor, with other Particulars of the like nature, that 
conduce very much to the right understanding of an Author. 
To gratihe this Curiosity, which is so natural to a Reader, 
I design this Paper, and my next, as Prefatory Discourses to 
my following Writings, and shall give some Account in them 
of the several Persons that are engaged in this Work. As 
the chief Trouble of Compiling, Digesting, and Correcting will 
fall to my Share, I mu.st do myself the Justice to open the 
Work with ray own History. 

I was born to a small Hereditary Estate, which, according 
to the Tradition of the Village where it lies, was bounded by 
the same Hedges and Ditches in William the Conqueror’s Time 
that it is at present, and has been delivered down from Father 
to Son whole and entire, without the Loss or Acquisition of a 
single Field or Meadow, during the Space of six hundred Years. 
There runs a Story in the Family, that when my Mother was 
gone with Child of me about three Months, she dreamt that 
she was brought to Bed of a Judge: Whether this might pro¬ 
ceed from a Law-Suit which was then depending in the Family, 
or my Father's being a Justice of the Peace, I cannot deter¬ 
mine ; for I am not so vain as to think it presaged any Dignity 
that I should arrive at in my future Life, though that was the 
Interpretation which the Neighbourhood put upon it. The 
Gravity of my Behaviour at my very first Appearance in the 
World, and all the Time that I sucked, seemed to favour my 
Mother’s Dream: For, as she has often told me, I threw away 
my Rattle before I was two Months old, and would not make 
use of my Coral 'till they had taken away the Bells from it. 

As for the rest of my Infancy, there being nothing in it 
3 



4 THE SPECTATOR No. i. Thursday, March i, 1711 

remarkable, I shall pass it over in Silence. I find, that, during 
my Nonage, I had the Reputation of a very sullen Youth, but 
was always a Favourite of my School-master, who used to say, 
that my Parts were solid and would wear well. I had not been 
long at the University, before I distinguished my self by a most 
profound Silence; For during the Space of eight Years, except¬ 
ing in the publick Exercises of the College, I scarce uttered the 
Quantity of an hundred Words; and indeed do not remember 
that I ever spoke three Sentences together in my whole Life. 
Whilst I was in this Learned Body I applied myself with so 
much Diligence to my Studies, that there are very few cele¬ 
brated Books, cither in the Learned or the Modern Tongues, 
which I am not acquainted with. 

Upon the Death of my Father I was resolved to travel into 
Foreign Countries, and therefore left the University, with the 
Character of an odd unaccountable Fellow, that had a great 
deal of Learning, if I would but show it. An insatiable 
Thirst after Knowledge carried me into all the Countries of 
Europe, in which there was any thing new or strange to be seen; 
nay, to such a Degree was my Curiosity raised, that having 
read the Controversies of some great Men concerning the 
Antiquities of Egypt, I made a Voyage to Grand Cairo, on pur¬ 
pose to take the Measure of a Pyramid; and as soon as I had 
set my self right in that Particular, returned to my Native 
Country with great Satisfaction. 

I have passed my latter Years in this City, where I am 
frequently seen in most Publick Places, tho' there are not 
above half a dozen of my select Friends that know me; of whom 
my next Paper shall give a more particular Account. There 
is no place of general Resort, wherein I do not often make my 
appearance; sometimes I am seen thrusting my Head into a 
Round of Politicians at Will's, and listning with great Atten¬ 
tion to the Narratives that are made in those little Circular 
Audiences. Sometimes I smoak a Pipe at Child’s', and whilst 
I seem attentive to nothing but the Post-Man, over-hear the 
Conversation of every Table in the Room. I appear on 
Sunday nights at St. James’s Coffee-House, and sometimes 
join the little Committee of Politicks in the Inner Room, as 
one who comes there to hear and improve. My face is like¬ 
wise very well known at the Grecian, the Cocoa-Tree, and in 
the Theatres both of Drury-Lane and the Hay-Market. I have 
been taken for a Merchant upon the Exchange for above these 
ten Years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the Assembly of 
Stock-Jobbers at Jonathan’s. In short, where-ever I see a 
Cluster of People I always mix with them, though I never open 
my Lips but in my own Club. 



5 


No. I. Thursday, March i, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 

Thus I live in the World, rather as a Spectator of JNIankind, 
than as one of the Species; by which means I have made my 
self a Speculative Statesman, Soldier, Merchant, and Artizan, 
without ever medling with any Practical Part in Life. I am 
very well versed in the Theory of an Husband, or a Father, and 
can discern the Errors in the Oeconomy, Business and Diver¬ 
sion of others, better than those who are engaged in them; as 
Standers-by discover Blots, which are apt to escape those 
who are in the Game. I never espoused any Party with Vio¬ 
lence, and am resolved to observe an exact Neutrality between 
the Whigs and Tories, unless I shall be forced to declare myself 
by the Hostilities of either Side. In short, I have acted in all 
the Parts of my Life as a Lookcr-oii, which is the Character 
I intend to preserve in this Paper. 

I have given the Reader just so much of my History and 
Character, as to let him see I am not altogether unqualified 
for the Business I have undertaken. As for other Particulars 
in my Life and Adventures, I shall insert them in following 
Papers, as I shall see occasion. In the mean time, when I con¬ 
sider how much I have seen, read and heard, 1 begin to blame 
my own Taciturnity; and. since I have neither Time nor 
Inclination to communicate the Fulness of my Heart in Speech, 
I am resolved to do it in Writing; and to Print my self out, 
if possible, before I Die. I have been often told by my 
Friends that it is Pity so many useful Discoveries which I have 
made, should be in the Possession of a Silent Man. For this 
Reason therefore, I shall publish a Sheet-full of Thoughts every 
Morning, for the Benefit of my Contemporaries; and if I can 
any way contribute to the Diversion or Improvement of the 
Country in which I live, I shall leave it, when I am summoned 
out of it, with the secret Satisfaction of thinldng that I have 
not Lived in vain. 

There are three very material Points which I have not 
spoken to in this Paper, and which, for several important 
Reasons, I must keep to my self, at least for some Time: I 
mean, an Account of my Name, my Age, and my Lodgings. 
I must confess I would gratifie my Reader in any thing that is 
reasonable; but as for these three Particulars, though I am 
sensible they might tend very much to the Embellishment of 
my Paper, I cannot yet come to a Resolution of communicat¬ 
ing them to the Publick. They would indeed draw me out of 
that Obscurity which I have enjoyed for many Years, and 
expose me in Publick Places to several Salutes and Civilities, 
which have been always very disagreeable to me; for the 
greatest Pain I can suffer, is the being talked to, and being 
stared at. It is for this Reason likewise, that I keep my 



6 THE SPECTATOR No. i. Thursday, March 1,1711 

Complexion and Dress, as very great Secrets; tho’ it is not im¬ 
possible, but I may make Discoveries of both, in the Progress 
of the Work I have undertaken. 

After having been thus particuljw: upon my self, I shall in 
to-Morrow's Paper give an Account of those Gentlemen who 
are concerned with me in this Work. For, as I have before 
intimated, a Plan of it is laid and concerted (as all other 
Matters of Importance are) in a Club. However, as my 
Friends have engaged me to stand in the Front, those who have 
a mind to correspond with me, may direct their Letters To the. 
Spectator, at Mr. Buckley's in Little Britain. For I must 
further acquaint the Reader, that tho' our Club meets only on 
Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have appointed a Committee to 
sit every Night, for the Inspection of all such Papers as may 
contribute to the Advancement of the Public Weal. C 


No. 2. 

[STEELE.] Friday, March 2. 

. . . Haec alii sex 

Vel plures uno conclamant ore. —Juv. 

The first of our Society is a Gentleman of Worcestershire, of 
antient Descent, a Baronet, his Name Sir Roger de Coverly. 
His great Grandfather was Inventor of that famous Country- 
Dance which is call’d after him. All who know that Shire are 
very well acquainted with the Parts and Merits of Sir Roger. 
He is a Gentleman that is very singular in his Behaviour, but 
his Singularities proceed from his good Sense, and are Contra¬ 
dictions to the Manners of the World, only as he thinks the 
World is in the wrong. However, this Humour creates him 
no Enemies, for he does nothing with Sourness or Obstinacy; 
and his being unconfined to Modes and Forms, makes him but 
the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know 
him. When he is in town he hves in Soho-Square: It is said, he 
keeps himself a Batchelor by reason he was crossed in Love, by 
a perverse beautiful Widow of the next County to him. 
Before this Disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a 
fine Gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and 
Sir George Etherege, fought a Duel upon his first coming to 
Town, and kick'd Bully Dawson in a publick Coffee-house for 
calling him Youngster. But being ill used by the above- 
mentioned Widow, he was very serious for a Year and a half; 
and though, his Temper being naturally jovial, he at last got 
over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed after- 



No, 2. Friday, March 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 7 

wards; he continues to wear a Coat and Doublet of the same 
Cut that were in Fashion at the Time of his Repulse, which, 
in his merry Humours, he tells us, has been in and out twelve 
Times since he first wore it. 'Tis said Sir Roger grew humble 
in his Desires after he had forgot this cruel Beauty, insomuch 
that it is reported he has frequently offended in Point of 
Chastity with Beggars and Gypsies: But this is look'd upon by 
his Friends rather as Matter of Raillery than Truth. He is 
now in his Fifty sixth Year, cheerful, gay, and hearty, keeps a 
good Flouse both in Town and Country; a great Lover of Man¬ 
kind; but there is such a mirthful Cast in his Behaviour, that 
he is rather beloved than esteemed: His Tenants grow rich, his 
Servants look satisfied, all the young Women profess Love to 
him, and the young Men are glad of his Company : When he 
comes into a House he calls the Servants by their Names, and 
talks all the way up Stairs to a Visit. I must not omit that 
Sir Roger is a Justice of the Quorum', that he fills the chair at a 
Quarter-Session with great Abilities, and three Months ago 
gain'd universal Applause by explaining a Passage in the 
Game-Act. 

The Gentleman next in Esteem and Authority among us, is 
another Batchelor, who is a Member of the Inner Temple', a 
Man of great Probity, Wit, and Understanding; but he has 
chosen his Place of Residence rather to obey the Direction of an 
old humoursom Father, than in pursuit of his own Inclinations. 
He was placed there to study the Laws of the Land, and is the 
most learned of any of the House in those of the Stage. Aris¬ 
totle and Longinus are much better understood by him than 
Littleton or Cooke. The Father sends up every Post Questions 
relating to Marriage-Articles, Leases, and Tenures, in the 
Neighbourhood; all which Questions he agrees with an Attorney 
to answer and take care of in the Lump: Ho is studying 
the Passions themselves, when he should be inquiring into the 
Debates among Men which arise from them. He knows the 
Argument of each of the Orations of Demosthenes and TuUy, 
but not one Case in the Reports of our own Courts. No one 
ever took him for a Fool, but none, except his intimate Friends, 
Imow he has a great deal of Wit. This Turn makes him at once 
both disinterested and agreeable: As few of his Thoughts are 
drawn from Business, they are most of them fit for Conversa¬ 
tion. His Taste of Books is a little too just for the Age he 
lives in; he has read all, but approves of very few. His 
Familiarity with the Customs, Manners, Actions, and Writings 
of the Antients, makes him a very delicate Observer of what 
occurs to him in the present World. He is an excellent Critick, 
and the Time of the Play is his Hour of Business; exactly at 



8 THE SPECTATOR No. 2. Friday, March 2, 1711 

five he passes thro' New-Inn, crosses thro' Russel-Conrt, and 
takes a turn at Will’s 'till the play begins; he has his Shooes 
rubbed and his Perriwig powder’d at the Barber’s as you go 
into the Rose. It is for the Good of the Audience when he is at 
a Play, for the Actors have an Ambition to please him. 

The Person of next Consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport, 
a Merchant of great Eminence in the City of London. A Per¬ 
son of indefatigable Industry, strong Reason, and great Ex¬ 
perience. His Notions of Trade are noble and generous, and 
(as every rich Man has usually some sly Way of Jesting, which 
would make no great Figure were he not a rich Man) he calls 
the Sea the British Common. He is acquainted with Com¬ 
merce in all its Parts, and will tell you that it is a stupid and 
barbarous Way to extend Dominion by Arms; for true Power 
is to be got by Arts and Industry. He will often argue, that 
if this Part of our Trade were well cultivated, we should gain 
from one Nation; and if another, from another. I have heard 
him prove, that Diligence makes more lasting Acquisitions than 
Valour, and that Sloth has ruined more Nations than the Sword. 
He abounds in several frugal Maxims, among which the greatest 
Favourite is, ‘A Penny saved is a Penny got.' A General 
Trader of good Sense, is pleasanter company than a general 
Scholar; and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected Elo¬ 
quence, the Perspicuity of his Discourse gives the same Pleasure 
that Wit would in another Man. He has made his Fortunes 
himself; and says that England may be richer than other King¬ 
doms, by as plain Methods as he himself is richer than other 
Men; tho’ at the same Time I can say this of him, that there is 
not a point in the Compass but blows home a Ship in which he 
is an Owner. 

Next to Sir Andrew in the Club-room sits Captain Sentry, a 
Gentleman of great Courage, good Understanding, but invin¬ 
cible Modesty. He is one of those that deserve very well, but 
are very awkward at putting their Talents within the Observa¬ 
tion of such as should take Notice of them. He was some 
Years a Captain, and behaved himself with great Gallantry in 
several Engagements, and at several Sieges; but having a small 
Estate of his own, and being next Heir to Sir Roger, he has 
quitted a Way of Life in which no Man can rise suitably to his 
Merit, who is not something of a Courtier as well as a Soldier. 
I have heard him often lament, that in a Profession where 
Merit is placed in so conspicuous a View, Impudence should 
get the better of Modesty. When he has talked to this Pur¬ 
pose I never heard him make a sour Impression, but frankly 
confess that he left the World, becauib he was not fit for it. 
A strict Honesty and an even regular Behaviour, are in them- 



No. 2. Friday, March 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR g 

selves Obstacles to him that must press through Crowds, who 
endeavour at the same End with himself, the Favour of a 
Commander. He will however in his Way of Talk excuse 
Generals, for not disposing according to Men’s Desert, or enquir¬ 
ing into it: For, says he, that great Man who has a Mind to help 
me, has as many to break through to come at me, as I have to 
come at him: Therefore he will conclude, that the Man who 
would make a Figure, especially in a military Way, must get 
over all false Modesty, and assist his Patron against the Im¬ 
portunity of other Pretenders, by a proper Assurance in his 
own Vindication. He says it is a civil Cowardice to be back¬ 
ward in asserting what you ought to expect, as it is a military 
Fear to be slow in attacking when it is your Duty. With this 
Candour does the Gentleman speak of himself and others. 
The same Frankness runs through all his Conversation. The 
military Part of his Life has furnish’d him with many Adven¬ 
tures, in the Relation of which he is very agreeable to the Com¬ 
pany; for he is never over-bearing, though accustomed to 
command Men in the utmost Degree below him; nor ever too 
obsequious, from an Habit of obeying Men highly above him. 

But that our Society may not appear a Set of Humourists 
unacquainted with the Gallantries and Pleasures of the Age, 
we have among us the gallant Will. Honeycomb, a Gentleman 
who according to his Years should be in the Decline of his Life, 
but having ever been very careful of his Person, and always had 
a very easie Fortune, Time has made but very little Impression, 
either by Wrinkles on his Forehead, or Traces in his Brain. 
His Person is well turn’d, of a good Height. He is very ready 
at that sort of Discourse with which Men usually entertain 
Women. He has all his Life dressed very well, and remembers 
Habits as others do Men. He can smile when one speaks to 
him, and laughs easily. He knows the History of every Mode, 
and can inform you from which of the French King’s Wenches 
our Wives and Daughters had this Manner of curling their 
Hair, that Way of placing their Hoods; whose Frailty was 
covered by such a Sort of Petticoat, and whose Vanity to shew 
her Foot made that Part of the Dress so short in such a Year. 
In a Word, all his Conversation and Knowledge has been in 
the female World: As other Men of his Age will take Notice to 
you what such a Minister said upon such and such an Occasion, 
he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at Court 
such a Woman was then smitten, another was ts^en with him 
at the Head of his Troop in the Park. In all these important 
Relations, he has evetjjjfcout the same Time received a kind 
Glance or a Blow of a Fan from some celebrated Beauty, 
Mother of the Present Lord such-a-one. If you speak of a* 



,XO THE SPECTATOR No. 2. Friday, March 2, 1711 

young Commoner that said a lively thing in the House, he 
starts up, ‘He has good Blood in his Veins, Tom Mirabell 
begot him, the Hogue cheated me in that affair; that young 
Fellow’s Mother used me more like a Dog than any Woman I 
ever made Advances to.' This way of Talking of his very much 
enlivens the Conversation among us of a more sedate Turn; 
and I find there is not one of the Company, but my self, who 
rarely speak at all, but speaks of him as of that Sort of Man, 
who is usually called a well-bred fine Gentleman. To conclude 
his Character, where Women are not concern’d, he is an honest 
worthy Man. 

I cannot tell whether I am to account him whom I am next 
to speak of, as one of our Company; for he visits us but seldom, 
but when he does it adds to every Man else a new Enjoyment 
of himself. He is a Clergyman, a very philosophick Man, of 
general Learning, great Sanctity of Life, and the most exact 
good Breeding. He has the Misfortune to be of a very weak 
Constitution, and consequently cannot accept of such Cares and 
Business as Preferments in his Function would oblige him to: 
He is therefore among Divines what a Chamber-Counsellor is 
among Lawyers. The Probity of his Mind, and the Integrity 
of his Life, create him Followers, as being eloquent or loud 
advances others. He seldom introduces the Subject he speaks 
upon; but we are so far gone in Years, that he observes, when he 
is among us, an Earnestness to have him fall on some divine 
Topick, which he always treats with much Authority, as one 
who has no Interests in this World, as one who is hastening to 
the Object of all his Wishes, and conceives Hope from his 
Decays and Infirmities. These are my ordinary Companions. 

R 


No. 3. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, March 3. 

Et quo qui^que fere studio devinctus adhaeret 
Aut quibus in rebus multum sumus ante morati 
Atque in ea ratione fuit content a magis mens, 

In somnis eadem pierumque videmur obire. —Lucr. L. 4. 

In one of my late Rambles, or rather Speculations, I looked into 
the great Hall where the Bank is kept, and was not a little 
pleased to sei 0 the Directors, Secretaries, and Clerks, with all 
the other Members of that wealthy Corporation, ranged in 
their several Stations, according to t^ Rarts they act in that 
just and regular Oeconomy. This rewved in my Memory the 
many Discourses which I had both read and heard concerning 



No. 3. Saturday, March, 3 1711 THE SPECTATOR ii 

the Decay of Publick Credit, with the Methods of restoring it, 
and which, in my Opinion, have always been defective, because 
they have always been made with an Eye to separate Interests, 
and Party Principles. 

The Thoughts of the Day gave my Mind Employment for 
the whole Night, so that I fell insensibly into a kind of Methodi¬ 
cal Dream, which dispos'd all my Contemplations into a 
Vision or Allegory, or what else the Reader shall please to 
call it. 

Methought I returned to the Great Hall, where I had been 
the Morning before, but, to my Surprize, instead of the Com¬ 
pany that I left there, I saw towards the upper end of the Hall, 
a beautiful Virgin seated on a Throne of Gold. Her Name (as 
they told me) was Publick Credit. The Walls, instead of being 
adorn’d with Pictures and Maps, were hung with many Acts of 
Parliament written in Golden Letters. At the Upper end of 
the Hall was the Magna Charta, with the Act of Uniformity 
on the right Hand, and the Act of Toleration on the left. At 
the Lower end of the Hall was the Act of Settlement, which was 
placed full in the Eye of the Virgin that sat upon the Throne. 
Both the Sides of the Hall were covered with such Acts of 
Parliament as had been made for the Establishment of Publick 
Funds, The Lady seemed to set an unspeakable Value upon 
these several Pieces of Furniture, insomuch that she often re¬ 
freshed her Eye with them, and often smiled with a Secret 
Pleasure, as she looked upon them; but, at the same time, 
showed a very particular Uneasiness, if she saw any thing 
approaching that might hurt them. She appeared indeed 
infinitely timorous in all her Behaviour: And, whether it was 
from the Delicacy of her Constitution, or that she was troubled 
with Vapours, as I was afterwards told by one who I found was 
none of her Well-wishers, she changed Colour, and startled at 
everything she heard. She was likewise (as I afterwards 
found) a greater Valetudinarian than any I had ever met with, 
even in her own Sex, and subject to such Momentary Con¬ 
sumptions, that in the twinkling of an Eye, she would fall 
away from the most florid Complexion, and the most healthful 
State of Body, and wither into a Skeleton. Her Recoveries 
were often as sudden as her Decays, insomuch that she would 
revive in a Moment out of a wasting Distemper, into a Habit of 
the highest Health and Vigour. 

I had very soon an Opportunity of observing these quick 
Turns and Changes in her Constitution. There sat at her Feet 
a Couple of Secretaries, who received every Hour Letters from 
all Parts of the World, which the one or the other of them was 
perpetually reading to her; and, according to the News she* 



12 THE SPECTATOR No. 3. Saturday, March 3, 1711 

heard, to which she was exceedingly attentive, she changed 
Colour, and discovered many Symptoms of Health or Sickness. 

Behind the l^hrone was a prodigious Heap of Bags of Mony, 
which were piled upon one another so high that they touched 
the Ceiling. The Floor, on her right Hand and on her left, was 
covered with vast Syms of Gold that rose up in Pyramids on 
either side of her: But this I did not so much wonder at, when 
I heard, upon Enquiry, that she had the same Virtue in her 
Touch, which the Poets tell us a Lydian King was formerly 
possess'd of; and that she could convert whatever she pleas'd 
into that precious Metal. 

After a little Dizziness, and confused Hurry of Thought, 
which a Man often meets with in a Dream, methought the 
Hall was alarm’d, the Doors flew open, and there enter’d half 
a dozen of the most hideous Phantoms that I had ever seen 
(even in a Dream) before that Time. They came in two by 
two, though match’d in the most dissociable Manner, and 
mingled together in a kind of Dance. It would be tedious to 
describe their Habits and Persons: for which Reason I shall only 
inform my Reader that the first Couple were Tyranny and 
Anarchy, the second were Bigotry and Atheism, the third the 
Genius of a Common-Wealth, and a young Man of about twenty 
two Years of Age, whose Name I could not learn. He had a 
Sword in his right Hand, which in the Dance he often bran¬ 
dished at the Act of Settlement; and a Citizen, who stood by 
me, whisper’d in my Ear, that he saw a Spunge in his left Hand. 
The Dance of so many jarring Natures put me in mind of the 
Sun, Moon, and Earth, in the Rehearsal, that danced together 
for no other end but to eclipse one another. 

The Reader will easily suppose, by what has been before 
said, that the Lady on the Throne would have been almost 
frighted to Distraction, had she seen but any one of these 
Spectres; what then must have been her Condition when she 
saw them all in a body? She fainted and dyed away at the 
Sight. 

Et neque jam color est mixto candore rubori; 

Nec vigor, <&* vires, & quae modo visa placebant. 

Nee corpus remanet . , .—Ov. Met. Lib. 3. 

There was as great a Change in the Hill of Mony Bags, and 
the Heaps of Mony, the former shrinking, and falling into so 
many empty Bags, that I now found not above a tenth part of 
them had been filled with Mony. The rest that took up the 
same Space, and made the safne Figure as the Bags that were 
really filled with Mony, had been blown up with Air, and called 
into my Memory the Bags full of Wind, which Homer tells ua 



No. 3. Saturday, March 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 13 

his Hero receiv’d as a Present from Aeolus. The great Heaps 
of Gold, on either side the Throne, now appeared to be only 
Heaps of Paper, or little Piles of notched Sticks, bound up 
together in Bundles, like Ba/A-Faggots. 

Whilst I was lamenting this sudden Desolation that had 
been made before me, the whole Scene vanished; In the Room 
of the frightful Spectres, there now enter’d a second Dance of 
Apparitions very agreeably matched together, and made up of 
very amiable Phantoms. The first Pair was Liberty with 
Monarchy at her right Hand: The second was Moderation 
leading in Religion; and the third a Person whom I had never 
seen, with the genius of Great Britain. At their first Entrance 
the Lady revived, the Bags swell’d to their former Bulk, the 
Piles of Faggots and Heaps of Paper changed into Pyramids 
of Guineas: And for my own part I was so transported with 
Joy, that I awaked, tho’, I must confess, I would fain have 
fallen asleep again to have closed my Vision, if I could have 
done it. C 


No. 4. 

[STEELE.] Monday, March 5. 

. . . Egre^ii mortalem altique silenti! —Ilor. 

An Author, when he first appears in the World, is very apt to 
believe it has nothing to think of but his Performances. With 
a good Share of this Vanity in my Heart, I made it my Business 
these three Days to listen after my own Fame; and, as I have 
sometimes met with Circumstances which did not displease me, 

I have been encounter’d by others which gave me as much 
Mortification. It is incredible to think how empty I have in 
this Time observed some Part of the Species to be, what mere 
Blanks they are when they first come abroad in the Morning, 
how utterly they are at a Stand ’till they are set a going by 
some Paragraph in a Ncws-Papc^r: Such Persons are very 
acceptable to a young Author, for they desire no more in any 
thing but to be new to be agreeable. If I found Consolation 
among such, I was as much disquieted by the Incapacity of 
others. These are Mortals who have a certain Curiosity with¬ 
out Power of Reflection, and perused my Papers like Specta¬ 
tors rather than Readers. But there is so little pleasure in 
Enquiries that so nearly concern our selves (it being the worst 
Way in the World to Fame, to be too anxious about it), that 
upon the whole I resolved for the future to go on in my ordinary 
"Way; and without too much Fear or Hope about the Business* 



14 THE SPECTATOR No. 4. Monday, March 5, 1711 

of Reputation, to be very careful of the Design of my Actions, 
but very negligent of the Consequences of them. 

It is an endless and frivolous Pursuit to act by any other 
Rule than the Care of satisfying our own Minds in what we do. 
One would think a silent Man, who concerned himself with no 
one breathing, should be very little liable to Misinterpretations; 
and yet I remember 1 was once taken up for a Jesuit, for no 
other reason but my profound Taciturnity. It is from this 
Misfortune, that to be out of Harm's Way, 1 have ever since 
affected Crowds. He who comes into Assemblies only to grati- 
fie his Curiosity, and not to make a Figure, enjoys the Plea¬ 
sures of Retirement in a more exquisite Degree, than he 
possibly could in his Closet; the Lover, the Ambitious, and the 
Miser, are followed thither by a worse Crowd than any they 
can withdraw from. To be exempt from the Passions with 
which others are tormented, is the only pleasing Solitude. 1 
can very justly say with the antient Sage, I am never less alone 
than when alone. As I am insignificant to the Company in 
publick Places, and as it is visible I do not come thither, as 
most do, to shew my self; I gratifie the Vanity of all who pre¬ 
tend to make an Appearance, and have often as kind Looks 
from well dressed Gentlemen and Ladies, as a Poet would 
bestow upon one of his Audience. There are so many Gratifi¬ 
cations attend this publick sort of Obscurity, that some little 
Distastes I daily receive have lost their Anguish; and I did the 
other Day, without the least Displeasure, overhear one say of 
me. That strange Fellow', and another answer, I have known the 
Fellow's Face these twelve Years, and so must you ; hut I believe 
you are the first ever asked who he was. There are, I must con¬ 
fess, many to whom my Person is as well known as that of their 
nearest Relations, who give themselves no further Trouble 
about calling me by my Name or Quality, but speak of me 
very currently by Mr, What-d'ye-caU-him. 

To make up for these trivial Disadvantages, I have the high 
Satisfaction of beholding all Nature with an unprejudic'd Eye; 
and having nothing to do with Men's Passions or Interests, I 
can with the greater Sagacity consider their Talents, Manners, 
Failings, and Merits. 

It is remarkable, that those who want any one Sense, possess 
the others with greater Force and Vivacity. Thus my Want of, 
or rather Resignation of Speech, gives me all the Advantages of 
a dumb Man. I have, methinks, a more than ordinary Pene¬ 
tration in Seeing; and flatter.my self that I have looked into 
the Highest and Lowest of Mankind, and make shrewd 
Guesses, without being admitted to their Conversation, at the 
inmost Thoughts and Reflections of all whom I behold. It is 



No. 4. Monday, March 5, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 13 

from honce that good or ill Fortune has no manner of Force 
towards affecting my Judgment. I see Men flourishing in 
Courts, and languishing in Jayls, without being prejudiced 
from their Circumstances to theur l''avour or Disadvantage; but 
from their inward Manner of bearing tiieir Condition, often 
pity the Prosperous and admire the Unhappy. 

Those who converse with the Dumb, know from the Turn 
of their Eyes, and the Changes of their Countenance, their 
Sentiments of the Objects before them. I have indulged my 
Silence to such an Extravagance, that the few who are intimate 
with me, answer my Smiles with concurrent Sentences, and 
argue to the very Point I shak'd my Head at without my speak- 
ing. Will. Honeycomb was very entertaining the other Night 
at a Play to a Gentleman who sat on his right Hand, while I 
was at his Left. The Gentleman believed Will, was talking to 
himself, when upon my looking with great Approbation at a 
young thing in a Box before us, he said, ' I am quite of another 
Opini(m; She has, I will allow, a very pleasing Aspect, but 
methinks that Simplicity in her Countenance is rather childish 
than innocent.' When I observed her a second time, he said, 
' I grant her Dress is very becoming, but perhaps the Merit of 
that Choice is owing to her Mother; for though,' continued he, 
'I allow a Beauty to be as much to be commended for the 
Elegance of her Dress, as a Wit for that of his Language; yet 
if she has stolen the Colour of her Ribbands from another, or 
had Advice about her Trimmings. I shall not allow her the 
Praise of Dress, any more than I would call a Plagiary an 
Author.' When I threw my Eye towards the next Woman to 
her. Will, spoke what I looked, according to his Romantick 
Imagination, in the following Manner. 

' Behold, you who dare, that charming Virgin. Behold the 
Beauty of her Person chastised by the Innocence of her 
Thoughts. Chastity, Good-Nature, and Affability, are the 
Graces that play in her Countenance; she knows she is hand¬ 
some, but she knows she is good. Conscious Beauty adorned 
with conscious Virtue! What a Spirit is there in those Eyes! 
What a Bloom in that Person! How is the whole Woman 
expressed in her Appearance! Her Air has the Beauty of 
Motion, and her Look the Force of Language.’ 

It was Prudence to turn away my Eyes from this Object, 
and therefore I turned them to the thoughtless Creatures who 
make up the Lump of that Sex, and move a knowing Eye no 
more than the Portraitures of insignificant People by ordinary 
Painters, which are but Pictures of Pictures. 

Thus the working of my own Mind is the general Entertain¬ 
ment of my Life; I never enter into the Commerce of Discourse 



l6 THE SPECTATOR No. 4. Monday, March 5, 1711 

with any but my particular Friends, and not in Publick even 
with them. Such an Habit has perhaps raised in me un¬ 
common Reflections; but this Effect I cannot communicate 
but by my Writings. As my Pleasures are almost wholly 
confined to those of the Sight, 1 take it for a peculiar Happiness 
that I have always had an easie and familiar Admittance to the 
fair Sex. If I never praised or flatter’d, I never belyed or 
contradicted them. As these compose half the World, and are 
by the just Complaisance and Gallantry of our Nation the more 
powerful Part of our People, I shall dedicate a considerable 
Share of these my Speculations to their Service, and shall lead 
the Young through all the becoming Duties of Virginity, 
Marriage, and Widowhood. When it is a Woman's Day, in 
my Works, I shall endeavour at a Stile and Air suitable to their 
Understanding. When I say this, I must be understood to 
mean, that I shall not lower but exalt the Subjects I treat upon. 
Discourse for their Entertainment, is not to be debased but 
refined. A Man may appear learned, without talking Sen¬ 
tences; as in his ordinary Gesture he discovers he can Dance, 
tho’ he does not cut Capers. In a Word, I shall take it for 
the greatest Glory of my Work, if among reasonable Women 
this Paper may furnish Tea-Table Talk. In order to it, I shall 
treat on Matters which relate to Females, as they are concern'd 
to approach or fly from the other Sex, or as they are tyed to 
them by Blood, Interest, or Affection. Upon this Occasion 
I think it but reasonable to declare, that whatever Skill I may 
have in Speculation, I shall never betray what the Eyes of 
Lovers say to each other in my Presence. At the same Time I 
shall not think myself obliged, by this Promise, to conceal any 
false Protestations which I observe made by Glances in publick 
Assemblies; but endeavour to make both Sexes appear in their 
Conduct what they are in their Hearts. By this means Love, 
during the Time of my Speculations, shall be carried on with 
the same Sincerity as any other Affair of less Consideration. 
As this is the greatest Concern, Men shall be from henceforth 
liable to the greatest Reproach for Misbehaviour in it. Fals- 
hood in Love shall hereafter bear a blacker Aspect, than 
Infidelity in Friendship, or Villany in Business. For this 
great and good End, all Breaches against that noble Passion, 
the Cement of Society, shall be severely examined. But this, 
and all other Matters loosely hinted at now, and in my 
former Papers, shall have their proper Place in my follow¬ 
ing Discourses: The present Writing is only to admonish the 
World, that they shall not find me an idle but a very busie 
Spectator. R 



No. 5. Tuesday, March 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 17 
No. 5. 

[ADDISON,] Tuesday, March 6. 

Spectatum admissi risum teneatis? —Hor. 

An Opera may be allowed to be extravagantly lavish in its 
Decorations, as its only Design is to gratifie the Senses, and keep 
up an indolent Attention in the Audience. Common Sense 
however requires, that there should be nothing in the Scenes 
and Machines which may appear Childish and Absurd. How 
would the Wits of King Charles's Time have laughed, to have 
seen Nicolini exposed to a Tempest in Robes of Ermin, and 
sailing in an open Boat upon a Sea of Paste-Board ? What a 
Field of Raillery would they have been let into, had they been 
entertain’d with painted Dragons spitting Wild-fire, enchanted 
Chariots drawn by Flanders Mares, and real Cascades in arti¬ 
ficial Land-skips ? A little Skill in Criticism would inform us, 
that Shadows and Realities ought not to be mix’d together in 
the same Piece; and that Scenes, which are designed as the 
Representations of Nature, should be filled with Resemblances, 
and not with the Things themselves. If one would represent a 
wide Champian Country filled with Herds and Flocks, it would 
be ridiculous to draw the Country only upon the Scenes, and to 
crowd several Parts of the Stage with Sheep and Oxen. This 
is joining together Inconsistencies, and making the Decoration 
partly Real and partly Imaginary, I would recommend what 
I have here said, to the Directors, as well as to the Admirers, 
of our Modern Opera. 

As I was walking in the Streets about a Fortnight ago, I 
saw an ordinary Fellow carrying a Cage full of little Birds upon 
his Shoulder; and, as I was wondering with my self what Use 
he would put them to, he was met very luckily by an Acquain¬ 
tance, who had the same Curiosity. Upon his asking him 
what he had upon his Shoulder, he told him, that he had been 
buying Sparrows for the Opera. Sparrows for the Opera, says 
his Friend, licking his lips, what, are they to be roasted ? No, 
no, says the other, they are to enter towards the end of the first 
Act, and to fly about the Stage. 

This strange Dialogue awakened my Curiosity so far, that I 
immediately bought the Opera, by which means I perceived 
that the Sparrows were to act the part of Singing Birds in a 
delightful Grove: though upon a nearer Enquiry I found the 
Sparrows put the same Trick upon the Audience, that Sir 
Martin Mar-all practised upon his Mistress; for, though they 
flew in Sight, the Mustek proceeded from a Consort of Flagel- 
lets and Bird-calls which was planted behind the Scenes. At 



i8 THE SPECTATOR No. 5. Tuesday, March 6, 1711 

the same time I made this Discovery, I found by the Dis¬ 
course of the Actors, that there were great Designs on foot for 
the Improvement of the Opera; that it had been proposed to 
break down a paui: of the Wall, and to surprize the Audience 
with a Party of an hundred Horse, and that there was actually 
a Project of bringing the New-River into the House, to be 
employed in Jetteaus and Waterworks. This Project, as I 
have since heard, is post-poned 'till the Summer-Season; when 
it is thought the Coolness that proceeds from Fountains and 
Cascades will be more acceptable and refreshing to People of 
Quality. In the mean time, to find out a more agreeable 
Entertainment for the Winter-Season, the Opera of Rinaldo is 
filled with Thunder and Lightning, Illuminations and Fire¬ 
works; which the Audience may look upon without catching 
Cold, and indeed without much Danger of being burnt; for 
there are several Engines filled with Water, and ready to play 
at a Minute's warning, in case any such Accident should 
happen. However, as I have a very great Friendship for the 
Owner of this Theater, I hope that he has been wise enough 
to insure his House before he would let this Opera be acted 
in it. 

It is no wonder, that those Scenes should be very surprizing, 
which were contrived by two Poets of difierent Nations, and 
raised by two Magicians of different Sexes. Armida (as we are 
told in the Argument) was an Amazonian Enchantress, and 
poor Signior Cassani (as we leam from the Persons represented) 
a Christian-Conjuror {Mago Chrisiiano). I must confess I am 
very much puzzled to find how an Amazon should be versed 
in the Black Art, or how a good Christian, for such is the Part 
of the Magician, should de^ with the Devil. 

To consider the Poets after the Conjurers, I shall give you a 
Taste of the Italian, from the first Lines of his Preface. Eccoti, 
benigno Lettore, un Parto di poche Sere, che se ben nato di Notie, 
non i perd aborto di Tenehre, md si fard conoscere Figlio d* 
Apollo con qualche Raggio di Parnasso. Behold, gentle Reader, 
the Birth of a few Evenings, which, tho* it be the Offspring of the 
Night, is not the Abortive of Darkness, but will make it self known 
to be the Son of Apollo, with a certain Ray of Parnassus. He 
afterwards proceeds to call Minheer Hendel the Orpheus of our 
Age, and to acquaint us, in the same Sublimity of Stile, that 
he Composed this Opera in a Fortnight. Such are the Wits, 
to whose Tastes we so ambitiously conform our selves. The 
Truth of it is, the finest Writers among the Modern Italians 
express themselves in such a florid Form of Words, and such 
tedious Circumlocutions, as are used by none but Pedants in 
our own Country; and at the same time fill their Writings with 



No. 5. Tuesday, March 6, l^ 11 THE SPECTATOR ig 

such poor Imaginations and Conceits, as our Youths are 
ashamed of before they have been two Years at the University. 
Some may be apt to think, that it is the diderence of Genius 
which produces this difference in the Works of the two Nations; 
but to shew there is nothing in this, if we look into the Writings 
of the old Italians, such as Cicero and Virgil, we shall find that 
the English Writers, in their way of thinking and express¬ 
ing themselves, resemble those Authors much more than the 
Modem Italians pretend to do. And as for the Poet himself, 
from whom the Dreams of this Opera are taken, I must entirely 
agree with Monsieur Boiteau, that one verse in Virgil is worth 
all the Clincant or Tinsel of Tasso. 

But to return to the Sparrows; there have been so many 
Flights of them let loose in this Opera, that it is feared the 
House will never get rid of them; and that in other Plays they 
may make their Entrance in very wrong and improper Scenes, 
so as to be seen flying in a Lady’s Bed-Chamber, or pearching 
upon a King’s Throne; besides the Inconveniencies which the 
Heads of the Audience may sometimes suffer from them. I 
am credibly informed, that there was once a Design of casting 
into an Opera the Story of Whittington and his Cat, and that in 
order to it there had been got together a great Quantity of 
Mice; but Mr. Rich, the Proprietor of the Play-House, very 
prudently considered that it would be impossible for the Cat 
to kill them all, and that consequently the Princes of his Stage 
might be as much infested with Mice, as the Prince of the Island 
was before the Cat’s Arrival upon it; for which Reason he 
would not permit it to be Acted in bis House. And indeed 
I cannot blame him; for, as he said very well upon that Occa¬ 
sion, I do not hear that any of the Performers in our Opera 
pretend to equal the famous Pied Piper, who made all 
the Mice of a great Town in Germany follow his Musick, 
and by that means cleared the Place of those little Noxious 
Animals. 

Before I dismiss this Paper, I must inform my Reader, that 
I hear there is a Treaty on foot with London and Wise (who will 
be appointed Gardeners of the Play-House) to furnish the 
Opera of Rinaldo and A rmida with an Orange-Grove; and that 
the next time it is Acted, the Singing Birds will be Person¬ 
ated by Tom-Tits: The Undertakers being resolved to 
spare neither Pains nor Mony, for the Gratification of the 
Audience. C 



20 THE SPECTATOR No. 6. Wednesday, March 7, 1711 
No. 6. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, March 7. 

Credebant hoc grande nefas morte piandum. 

Si juvenis vetulo non assurrexerat . . .—Juv. 

I KNOW no Evil under the Sun so great as the Abuse of the 
Understanding, and yet there is no one Vice more common. 
It has diffus'd it self through both Sexes and all Qualities of 
Mankind; and there is hardly that Person to be found, who is 
not more concern’d for the Reputation of Wit and Sense, than 
Honesty and Virtue. But this unhappy Affectation of being 
Wise rather than Honest, Witty than Good-natur'd, is the 
Source of most of the ill Habits of Life. Such false Impres¬ 
sions are owing to the abandon'd Writings of Men of Wit, and 
the awkward Imitation of the rest of Mankind. 

For this Reason, Sir Roger was saying last Night, That he 
was of Opinion none but Men of fine Parts deserve to be hanged. 
The Reflections of such Men are so delicate upon all Occur¬ 
rences which they are concerned in, that they should be 
exposed to more than ordinary Infamy and Punishment, for 
offending against such quick Admonitions as their own Souls 
give them, and blunting the fine Edge of their Minds in such a 
Manner, that they are no more shocked at Vice and Folly, 
than Men of slower Capacities. There is no greater Monster 
in Being, than a very ill Man of great Parts: He lives like a 
Man in a Palsy, with one Side of him dead. While perhaps he 
enjoys the Satisfaction of Luxury, of Wealth, of Ambition, he 
has lost the Taste of Good-will, of Friendship, of Innocence. 
Scarecrow, the Beggar in Lincoln*s-Inn-Fields, who disabled 
himself in his Right Leg, and asks Alms all Day to get himself 
a warm Supper and a Trull at Night, is not half so despicable 
a Wretch as such a Man of Sense. The Beggar has no Relish 
above Sensations: he finds Rest more agreeable than Motion; 
and while he has a warm Fire and his Doxy, never reflects that 
he deserves to be whipped. Every Man who terminates his 
Satisfactions and Enjoyments within the Supply of his own 
Necessities and Passions, is, says Sir Roger, in my Eye as poor 
a Rogue as Scarecrow. But, continued he, for the Loss of 
publick and private Virtue we are beholden to your Men of 
Parts forsooth; it is with them no matter what is done, so it is 
done with am Air. But to me, who am so whimsical in a corrupt 
Age as to act according to Nature and Reaison, a selfish Man, in 
the most shining Circumstance and Equipage, appears in the 
same Condition with the Fellow above-mentioned, but more 
contemptible, in Proportion to what more he robs the Publick 
of and enjoys above him. I lay it down therefore for a Rule, 



No. 6. Wednesday. March 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 21 

That the whole Man is to move together; that every Action of 
any Importance is to have a Prospect of publick Good; and 
that the general Tendency of our indifferent Actions ought to 
be agreeable to the Dictates of Reason, of Religion, of good 
Breeding; without this, a Man, as I before have hinted, is 
hopping instead of walking, he is not in his intire and proper 
Motion. 

Wliile the honest Knight was thus bewildering himself in 
good Starts, I look’d intentively upon him, which made him, 

I thought, collect his Mind a little. What I aim at, says he, is 
to represent. That I am of Opinion, to polish our Understand¬ 
ings and neglect our Manners is of all things the most inexcus¬ 
able. Reason should govern Passion, but instead of that, you 
see, it is often subservient to it; and as unaccountable as one 
would think it, a wise Man is not always a good Man. This 
Degeneracy is not only the Guilt of particular Persons, but also 
at some times of a whole People; and perhaps it may appear 
upon Examination, that the most polite Ages are the least 
virtuous. This may be attributed to the Folly of admitting 
Wit and Learning as Merit in themselves, without considering 
the Application of them. By this Means it becomes a Rule, 
not so much to regard what we do, as how we do it. But this 
false Beauty will not pass upon Men of honest Minds and true 
Taste: Sir Richard Blackmore says, with as much good Sense 
as Virtue, It is a mighty Dishonour and Shame to employ excels 
lent Faculties and abundance of Wit, to humour and please Men 
in their Vices and Follies. The great Enemy of Mankind, not¬ 
withstanding his Wit and Angelick Faculties, is the most odious 
Being in the whole Creation. He goes on soon after to say very 
generously, That he undertook the writing of his Poem to 
rescue the Muses out of the Hands of Ravishers, to restore them 
to their sweet and chaste Mansions, and to engage them in an 
Employment suitable to their Dignity. This certainly ought to 
be the Purpose of every Man who appears in Publick; and 
whoever does not proceed upon that Foundation, injures his 
Country as fast as he succeeds in his Studies. When Modesty 
ceases to be the chief Ornament of one Sex, and Integrity of 
the other. Society is upon a wrong Basis, and we shall be ever 
after without Rules to guide our Judgment in what is really 
becoming and ornamental. Nature and Reason direct one 
thing. Passion and Humour another: To follow the Dictates of 
the two latter, is going into a Road that is both endless and 
intricate; when we pursue the other, our Passage is delightful, 
and what we aim at easily attainable. 

I do not doubt but England is at present as polite a Nation 
as any in the World; but any Man who thinks can easily see,. 



22 THE SPECTATOR No. 6. Wednesday, March y, 1711 

that the Affectation of being Gay and in Fashion has very 
near eaten up our good Sense and our Religion. Is there 
anything so just, as that Mode and Gallantry should be built 
upon exerting our selves in what is proper and agreeable to 
the Institutions of Justice and Piety among us? And yet is 
there any thing more common, than that we run in perfect 
Contradiction to them? All which is supported by no other 
Pretension, than tliat it is done with what we call a good Grace. 

Nothing ought to be held laudable or becoming, but what 
Nature it self should prompt us to think so. Respect to all 
kind of Superiors is founded, methinks, upon Instinct; and yet 
what is so ridiculous as Age? I make this abrupt Transition 
to the Mention of this Vice more than any other, in order to 
introduce a little Story, which I think a pretty Instance that 
the most polite Age is in danger of being the most vicious. 

‘It happen’d at Athens, during a publick Representation of 
some Play exhibited in honour of the Commonwealth, that an 
old Gentleman came too late for a Place suitable to his Age and 
Quality. Many of the young Gentlemen who observed the 
Difficulty and Confusion he was in, made Signs to him that 
they would accommodate him if he came where they sate: 
The good Man bustled through the Crowd accordingly; but 
when he came to the Seats to which he was invited, the Jest 
was to sit close, and expose him, as he stood out of Counten¬ 
ance, to the whole Audience. The Frolick went round all the 
Athenian Benches. But on those Occasions there were also 
particular Places assigned for Foreigners: When the good Man 
skulked towards the Boxes appointed for the Lacedemonians, 
that honest People, more virtuous than polite, rose up all to 
a Man, and with the greatest Respect received him among 
them. The Athenians being suddenly touch'd with a Sense 
of the Spartan Virtue and their own Degeneracy, gave a 
Thunder of Applause; and the old Man cried out. The Athenians 
understand what is good, but the Lacedemonians practise it/ R 


No. 7. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday. March 8 . 

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, 

Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides? —Hor. 

Going Yesterday to Dine with an old Acquaintance, I had the 
Misfortune to find his whole Family very much dejected. Up¬ 
on asking him the Occasion of it, he told me that his Wife h^ 
dreamt a very strange Dream the Night before, which they were 



No,y, Thursday, March S, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 23 

afraid portended some Misfortune to themselves or to their 
Children. At her coming into the Room I observed a settled 
Melancholy in her Countenance, which I should have been 
troubled for, had I not heard from whence it proceeded. We 
were no sooner sate down, but, after having looked upon me 
a little while. My Dear, says she, turning to her Husband, you 
may now see the Stranger that was in the Candle last Night. 
Soon after this, as they began to talk of Family Affairs, a little 
Boy at the lower end of the Table told her, that he was to go 
into Join-hand on Thursday. Thursday? says she. No, Child, 
if it please God, you shall not begin upon Childermas-day; tell 
your Writing-Master that Friday will be soon enough. I was 
Reflecting with my self on the Oddness of her Fancy, and 
wondering that any Body would establish it as a Rule to lose a 
Day in every Week. In the midst of these my Musings she 
desired me to reach her a little Salt upon the Point of my 
Knife, which I did in such a Trepidation and Hurry of Obedi¬ 
ence, that I let it drop by the Way; at which she immediately 
startled, and said it fell towards her. Upon this I looked very 
blank; and, observing the Concern of the whole Table, began 
to consider my self, with some Confusion, as a Person that had 
brought a Disaster upon the Family. The Lady however 
recovering her self after a little space, said to her Husband with 
a Sigh, My Dear, Misfortunes never come Single. My Friend, 

I found, acted but an under-Part at his Table, and being a 
Man of more Good-nature than Understanding, thinks himself 
obliged to fall in with all the Passions and Humours of his 
Yoke-Fellow: Do not you remember. Child, says she, that the 
Pidgeon-house fell the very Afternoon that our careless Wench 
spilt the Salt upon the Table? Yes, says he. My Dear, and the 
next Post brought us an Account of the Battel of Almanza. The 
Reader may guess at the figure I made, after having done all 
this Mischief. I dispatched my Dinner as soon as I could, 
with my usual Taciturnity; when, to my utter Confusion, the 
Lady seeing me quitting my Knife and Fork, and laying them 
across one another upon my Plate, desired me that I would 
humour her so far as to take them out of that Figure, and place 
them side by side. What the Absurdity was which I had 
committed I did not know, but I suppose there was some 
traditionary Superstition in it; and therefore, in obedience to 
the Lady of the House, I disposed of my Knife and Fork in 
two parallel Lines, which is the figure I shall always lay them 
in for the future, tho’ 1 do not know any Reason for it. 

It is not difficult for a Man to see that a Person has con¬ 
ceived an Aversion to him. For my own part, I quickly found, 
by the Lady's Looks, that she regarded me as a very odd kind • 
I—1®* D 348-11 m 



24 THE SPECTATOR No. y. Thursday, March S, lyii 

of Fellow, with an unfortunate Aspect: For which Reason I 
took my leave immediately after Dinner, and withdrew to my 
own Lodgings. Upon my Return Home, I fell into a profound 
Contemplation on the Evils that attend these superstitious 
Follies of Mankind; how they subject us to imaginary Afiflic- 
tions, and additional Sorrows, that do not properly come within 
our Lot. As if the natural Calamities of Life were not sufi&cient 
for it, we turn the most indifferent Circumstances into Mis¬ 
fortunes, and suffer as much from trifling Accidents, as from 
real Evils. I have known the shooting of a Star spoil a Night’s 
Rest; and have seen a Man in Love grow pale and lose his 
Appetite, upon the plucking of a Merry-thought. A Screech- 
Owl at Midnight has alarm'd a family, more than a Band of 
Robbers; nay, the Voice of a Cricket hath struck more Terror 
than the Roaring of a Lion. There is nothing so inconsider¬ 
able, which may not appear dreadful to an Imagination that is 
filled with Omens and Prognosticks. A rusty Nail, or a 
crooked Pin, shoot up into Prodigies. 

I remember I was once in a mixt Assembly, that was full ol 
Noise and Mirth, when on a sudden an old Woman unluckily 
observed there were thirteen of us in Company. This Remark 
struck a pannick Terror into several who were present, inso¬ 
much that one or two of the ladies were going to leave the 
Room; but a Friend of mine taking notice that one of our 
Female Companions was big with Child, afl&rm’d there were 
fourteen in the Room, and that instead of portending one of 
the Company should die, it plainly foretold one of them should 
be bom. Had not my Friend found out this Expedient to 
break the Omen, I question not but half the Women in the 
Company would have fallen sick that very Night. 

An old Maid, that is troubled with the Vapours, produces 
infinite Distur^nces of this kind among her Friends and 
Neighbours. I know a Maiden Aunt, of a great Family, who 
is one of these Antiquated Sybils, that forbodes and prophesies 
from one end of the Year to the other. She is always seeing 
Apparitions, and hearing Death-Watches; and was the other 
Day almost frighted out of her Wits by the great House-Dog, 
that howled in tlie Stable at a time when she lay ill of the 
Tooth-ach. Such an extravagant Cast of Mind engages 
Multitudes of People, not only in impertinent Terrors, but in 
supernumerary Duties of Life; and arises from that Fear and 
Ignorance which are natural to the Soul of Man. The Horror 
with which we entertain the Thoughts of Death (or indeed of 
any future Evil) and the Uncertainty of its Approach, fill a 
melancholy Mind with innumerable Apprehensions and Sus¬ 
picions, and consequently dispose it to the Observation of such 



No. 7. Thursday, March 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 25 

groundless Prodigies and Predictions. For as it is the chief 
Concern of Wise-Men, to retrench the Evils of Life by the 
Reasonings of Philosophy: it is the Employment of Fools, to 
multiply them by the Sentiments of Superstition. 

For my own part, I should be very much troubled were I 
endowed with this Divining Quality, though it should inform 
me truly of every thing that can befal me. I would not antici¬ 
pate the Relish of any Happiness, nor feel the Weight of any 
Misery, before it actually arrives. 

I know but one way of fortifying my Soul against these 
gloomy Presages and Terrors of Mind, and that is, by securing 
to my self the Friendship and Protection of that Being, who 
disposes of Events, and governs Futurity. He sees, at one 
View, the whole Thread of my Existence, not only that Part of 
it which I have already passed through, but that which runs 
forward into all the Depths of Eternity. When I lay me down 
to Sleep, I recommend my self to his Care; when I awake, I 
give my self up to his Direction. Amidst all the Evils that 
threaten me, I will look up to him for Help, and question not 
but he will either avert them, or turn them to my Advantage. 
Though I know neither the Time nor the Manner of the Death 
I am to die, I am not at all sollicitous about it; because I am 
sure that he knows them both, and that he will not fail to com¬ 
fort and support me under them. C 


No. 8. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, March 9. 

Ai Venus obscuro gradientis acre sepsit, 

Et multo nebulae circum dea fudit amiciu. 

Cernere ne quis eos . . .—Virg. 

I SHALL here communicate to the World a couple of Letters, 
which I believe will give the Reader as good an Entertain¬ 
ment as any that I am able to furnish him with, and therefore 
shall make no Apology for them. 

‘ To the Spectator, &c. 

Sir, 

I am one of the Directors of the Society for the Reformation 
of Manners, and therefore think my self a proper Person for 
your Correspondence. I have thoroughly examined the pre¬ 
sent State of Religion in Great Britain, and am able to acquaint 
you with the predominant Vice of every Market-Town in the 
whole Island. I can tell you the Progress that Virtue has 



26 THE SPECTATOR No. 8 . Friday, March 9. i?'* 

npLade in all our Cities, Boroughs, and Corporations; and know 
as well the evil Practices that are committed in Berwick or 
Exeter, as what is done in my own Family. In a word, Sir, 
I have my Correspondents in the remotest Parts of the Nation, 
who send me up punctual Accounts from time to time of all 
the little Irregularities that fall under their Notice in their 
several Districts and Divisions. 

I am no less acquainted with the particular Quarters and 
Regions of this great Town, than with the different Parts 
and Distributions of the whole Nation. I can describe every 
Parish by its Impieties, and can tell you in which of our Streets 
Lewdness prevails, which Gaming has taken the Possession of, 
and where Drunkenness has got the better of them both. 
When I am disposed to raise a Fine for the Poor, I know the 
Lanes and Allies that are inhabited by common Swearers. 
When I would encourage the Hospital of Bridewell, and im¬ 
prove the Hempen Manufacture, I am very well acquainted 
with all the Haunts and Resorts of Female Night-walkers. 

After this short Account of my self, I must let you know, 
that the Design of this Paper is to give you Information of a 
certain irregular Assembly which I think falls very properly 
under your Observation, especially since the Persons it is 
composed of are Criminals too considerable for the Animad¬ 
versions of our Society. I mean. Sir, the Midnight Masf^ue, 
which has of late been very frequently held in one of the most 
consp>icuous Parts of the Town, and which I hear will be 
continued with Additions and Improvements. As all the 
Persons who compose this lawless Assembly are masqued, we 
dare not attack any of them in our Way, lest we should send a 
Woman of Quality to Bridewell, or a Peer of Great-Britain to 
the Counter : Besides that, their Numbers are so very grejat, that 
I am afraid they would be able to rout our whole Fraternity, 
though we were accompanied with all our Guard of Constables. 
Both these Reasons, which secure them from our Authority, 
make them obnoxious to yours; As both their Disguise and 
their Numbers will give no particular Person Reason to think 
himself affronted by you. 

If we are rightly informed’, the Rules that are observed by 
this new Society are wonderfully contrived for the Advance¬ 
ment of Cuckoldom. The Women either come by themselves 
or are introduced by Friends, who are obliged to quit them, 
upon their first Entrance, to the Conversation of any Body that 
addresses himself to them. There are several Rooms where 
the Parties may retire, and, if they please, shew their Faces by 
Consent. Whispers, Squeezes, Nods, and Embraces, are the 
innocent Freedoms of the Place. In short, the whole Design 



No. S. Friday, March g, lyII THE SPECTATOR 27 

of this libidinous Assembly seems to terminate in Assignations 
and Intrigues; and I hope you will take effectual Methods, by 
your publick Advice and Admonitions, to prevent such a pro¬ 
miscuous Multitude of both Sexes from meeting together in so 
clandestine a Manner. I am 

Your humble Servant, 

A nd Fellow-Labourer, 

T. B.’ 

Not long after the Perusal of this Letter, I receiv’d another 
upon the same Subject; which by the Date and Stile of it, I 
take to be written by some young Templer. 

‘Sir, Middle-Temple, iy\° 

When a Man has been guilty of any Vice or Folly, I think the 
best Attoncment he can make for it, is to warn others not to 
fall into the like. In order to this I must acquaint you, that 
some time in February last I went to the Tuesday'^ Masquerade. 
Upon my first going in I was attack’d by half a Dozen female 
Quakers, who seem'd willing to adopt me for a Brother; but 
upon a nearer Examination I found they were a Sisterhood of 
Coquets disguised in that precise Habit. I was soon after 
taken out to dance, and, as I fancied, by a Woman of the first 
Quality, for she was very tall, and moved gracefully. As soon 
as the Minuet was over, we ogled one another through our 
Masques; and as I am very well read in Waller, I repeated to 
her the four following Verses out of his poem to Vandike. 

The heedless Lover does not know 
Whose Eyes they are that wound him so; 

But, confounded with thy Art, 

Enquires her Name that has his Heart. 

I pronounced these Words with such a languishing Air, that 
I had some Reason to conclude I had made a Conquest. She 
told me that she hoped my Face was not akin to my Tongue; 
and looking upon her Watch, I accidentally discovered the 
Figure of a Coronet on the back Part of it. I was so trans¬ 
ported with the Thought of such an Amour, that I plied her 
from one Room to another with all the Gallantries I could 
invent; and at length brought things to so happy an Issue, 
that she gave me a private Meeting the next Day, without 
Page or Footman, Coach or Equipage. My Heart danoed 
in Raptures; but I had not lived in this golden Dream above 
three Days, before I found good Reason to wish that I had 
continued true to my Laundress. I have since heard, by a 
very great Accident, that this fine Lady does not live far from 



28 THE SPECTATOR No. 8. Friday, March g, 1711 

Covent-Garden, and that I am not the first Cully whom she has 
pass'd her self upon for a Countess. 

Thus, Sir, you see how I have mistaken a Cloud for a Juno; 
and if you can make any use of this Adventure, for the Benefit 
of those who may possibly be as vain young Coxcombs as my 
self, I do most heartily give you Leave. I am. Sir, 

Your most humble Admirer, 

B. L.' 

I design to visit the next Masquerade my self, in the same 
Habit I wore at Grand Cairo; and 'till then shall suspend my 
Judgment of tliis Midnight Entertainment. C 


No. 9. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, March 10. 

. . . Tigris agit rahida cum tigride pacem 

Perpetuam; saevis inter se convenit ursis. —Juv. 

Man is said to be a Sociable Animal, and, as an Instance of it, 
we may observe, that we take all Occasions and Pretences of 
forming our selves into those little Nocturnal Assemblies, which 
are commonly known by the name of Clubs. When a Sett of 
Men find themselves agree in any Particular, tho' never so 
trivial, they establish themselves into a kind of Fraternity, 
and meet once or twice a Week, upon the account of such a 
Fantastick Resemblance. I know a considerable Market- 
town, in which there was a Club of fat Men, that did not come 
together (as you may well suppose) to entertain one another 
with Sprightlincss and Wit, but to keep one another in Coun¬ 
tenance : The Room where the Club met was something of the 
largest, and had two Entrances, the one by a Door of a moderate 
Size, and the other by a Pair of Folding-doors. If a Candidate 
for this Corpulent Club could make his Entrance through the 
first, he was looked upon as unqualified; but if he stuck in the 
Passage, and could not force his Way through it, the Folding- 
Doors were immediately thrown open for his Reception, and 
he was saluted as a Brother. I have heard that this Club, 
though it consisted but of fifteen Persons, weighed above 
three Tun. 

In Opposition to this Society, there sprung up another 
composed of Scare-crows apd Skeletons, who being very 
meagre and envious, did all tiiey could to thwart the Designs 
of their Bulky Brethren, whom they represented as Men of 
Dangerous Principles; till at length they worked them out of 



No. 9. Saturday, March 10, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 29 

the Favour of the People, and consequently out of the Magis¬ 
tracy. These Factions tore the Corporation in Pieces for 
several Years, till at length they came to this Accommodation; 
that the two Bailiffs of the Town should be annually chosen out 
of the two Clubs; by which means the principal Magistrates are 
at this Day coupled like Rabbets, one fat and one lean. 

Every one has heard of the Club, or rather the Confederacy, 
of the Kings. This grand Alliance was formed a little after 
the Return of King Charles the Second, and admitted into it 
Men of all Qualities and Professions, provided they agreed in 
this Siniame of King, which, as they imagined, sufficiently 
declared the Owners of it to be altogether untainted with 
Republican and Anti-Monarchical Principles. 

A Christian Name has likewise been often used as a Badge 
of Distinction, and made the Occasion of a Club. That of the 
Georges, which used to meet at the Sign of the George, on St. 
George's Day, and swear Before George, is still fresh in every 
one's Memory. 

There are at present in several Parts of this City what they 
call Street-Clubs, in which the chief Inhabitants of the Street 
converse together every Night. I remember, upon my en¬ 
quiring after Lodgings in Ortnond-Street, the Landlord, to 
recommend that Quarter of the Town, told me, there was 
at that time a very good Club in it; he also told me, upon 
further Discourse with him, that two or three noisie Country 
Squires, who were settled there the Year before, had consider¬ 
ably sunk the Price of House-Rent; and that the Club (to pre¬ 
vent the like Inconveniences for the future) had Thoughts of 
taking every House that became vacant into their own Hands, 
till they had found a Tenant for it, of a sociable Nature and 
good Conversation. 

The Hum-Drum Club, of which I was formerly an unworthy 
Member, was made up of very honest Gentlemen, of peaceable 
Dispositions, that used to sit together, smoak their Pipes, and 
say nothing till Midnight. The Mum Club (as I am informed) 
is an Institution of the same Nature, and as great an Enemy 
to Noise. 

After these two innocent Societies, I cannot forbear mention¬ 
ing a very mischievous one, that was erected in the Reign of 
King Charles the Second: I mean the Club of Duellists, in which 
none was to be admitted that had not fought his Man. The 
President of it was said to have killed half a dozen in single 
Combat; and as for the other Members, they took their Seats 
according to the Number of their Slain. There was likewise 
a Side-Table, for such as had only drawn Blood, and shewn a 
laudable Ambition of taking the first Opportunity to qualifie 



30 THE SPECTATOR No. g. Saturday, March lo, 1711 

themselves for the first Table. This Club, consisting only of 
Men of Honour, did not continue long, most of the Members 
of it being put to the Sword, or hanged, a little after its 
Institution. 

Our Modem celebrated Clubs are founded upon Eating and 
Drinking, which are Points wherein most Men agree, and in 
which the Learned and Illiterate, the Dull and the Airy, the 
Philosopher and the Buffoon, can all of them bear a Part. 
The Kit-Cat it self is said to have taken its Original from a 
Mutton-Pye. The Beef-Steak, and October Clubs, are neither 
of them averse to Eating and Drinking, if we may form a 
Judgment of them from their respective Titles. 

When Men are thus knit together, by a Love of Society, not 
a Spirit of Faction, and don’t meet to censure or annoy those 
that are absent, but to enjoy one another; When they are thus 
combined for their own Improvement, or for the Good of 
others, or at least to relax themselves from the Business of the 
Day, by an innocent and chearful Conversation, there may be 
something very useful in these little Institutions and Estab¬ 
lishments. 

1 cannot forbear concluding this Paper with a Scheme of 
Laws that I met with upon a Wall in a little Ale-house: How I 
came thither I may inform my Reader at a more convenient 
time. These Laws were enacted by a Knot of Artizans and 
Mechanicks, who used to meet every Night; and as there is 
something in them which gives us a pretty Picture of low Life, 
I shall transcribe them Word for Word. 

Rules to be observed in the Two-penny Club, erected in this Place, 
for the Preservation of Friendship and good Neighbourhood. 

I. Every Member at his first coming in shall lay down his 
Two-Pence. 

II. Every Member shall fill his Pipe out of his own Box. 

III. If any Member absents himself he shall forfeit a Penny 
for the Use of the Club, unless in case of Sickness or Imprison¬ 
ment. 

IV. If any Member swears or curses, his Neighbour may give 
him a Kick upon the Shins. 

V. If any Member tells Stories in the Club that are not true, 
he shall forfeit for every third Lie an Halfpenny. 

VI. If any Member strikes another wrongfully, he shall pay 
his Club for him. 

VII. If any Member brings his Wife into the Club, he shall 
pay for whatever she drinks or smoaks. 

VIII. If any Member’s Wife comes to fetch him home from 
the Club, she shall speak to him without the Door. 



No. g.. Saturday, March lo, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 31 

IX. If any Member calls another Cuckold, he shall be turned 
out of the Club. 

X. None shall be admitted into the Club that is of the same 
Trade with any Member of it. 

XI. None of the Club shall have his Cloaths or Shoes made 
or mended, but by a Brother-Member. 

XII. No Non-juror shall be capable of being a Member. 

The Morality of this little Club is guarded by such whole¬ 
some Laws and Penalties, that I question not but my Reader 
will be as well pleased with them, as he would have been with 
the Leges Convivales of Ben. Johnson, the Regulations of an 
old Roman Club cited by Lipsius, or the Rules of a Symposium 
in an ancient Greek Author. C 


No. 10. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, March 12. 

Non aliter quam qui adverse vix flumine lemhum 

Remigiis subigit, si bracchia forte remisit, 

Atque ilium praeceps prono rapit alveus amni. —Virg. 

It is with much Satisfaction that I hear this great City in¬ 
quiring Day by Day after these my Papers, and receiving my 
Morning Lectures with a becoming Seriousness and Attention. 
My Publisher tells me, that there are already Three thousand of 
them distributed every Day: So that if I allow Twenty Readers 
to every Paper, which I look upon as a modest Computation, 

I may reckon about Threescore thousand Disciples in London 
and Westminster, who I hope will take care to distinguish 
themselves from the thoughtless Herd of their ignorant and 
unattentive Brethren. Since I have raised to myself so great 
an Audience, I shall spare no Pains to make their Instruction 
agreeable, and their Diversion useful. For which Reasons I 
shall endeavour to enliven Morality with Wit, and to temper Wit 
with Morality, that my Readers may, if possible, both Ways 
find their Account in the Speculation of the Day. And to the 
End that their Virtue and Discretion may not be short transient 
intermittent Starts of Thought, I have resolved to refresh their 
Memories from Day to Day, till I have recovered them out of 
that desperate State of Vice and Folly into which the Age is 
fallen. The Mind that lies fallow but a single Day, sprouts up 
in Follies that are only to be killed by a constant and assiduous 
Culture, It was said of Socrates, that he brought Philosophy 
down from Heaven, to inhabit among Men; and I shall be. 

j_164 



32 THE SPECTATOR No. lo. Monday, March 12. 1711 

ambitious to have it said of me, that I have brought Philosophy 
out of Closets and Libraries, Schools and Colleges, to dwell in 
Clubs and Assemblies, at Tea-Tables and in Coffee-Houses. 

I would therefore in a very particular Manner recommend 
these my Speculations to all well regulated Families, that set 
apart an Hour in every Morning for Tea and Bread and Butter; 
and would earnestly advise them for their Good to order this 
Paper to be punctually served up, and to be looked upon as a 
Part of the Tea Equipage. 

Sir Francis Bacon observes, that a well-written Book, 
compared with its Rivals and Antagonists, is like Moses's Ser¬ 
pent, that immediately swallow’d up and devoured those of the 
Aegypiians. I shall not be so vain as to think, that where the 
Spectator appears, the other publick Prints will vanish; but 
shall leave it to my Reader’s Consideration, whether. Is it not 
much better to be let into the Knowledge of one’s self, than to 
hear what passes in Muscovy or Poland', and to amuse our 
selves with such Writings as tend to the wearing out of Ignor¬ 
ance, Passion, and Prejudice, than such as naturally conduce 
to inflame Hatreds, and make Enmities irreconcileable ? 

In the next Place, I would recommend this Paper to the 
daily Perusal of those Gentlemen whom I cannot but consider 
as my good Brothers and Allies, I mean the Fraternity of 
Spectators who live in the World without having any thing to 
do in it; and cither by the Affluence of their Fortunes, or Lazi¬ 
ness of their Dispositions, have no other Business with the 
rest of Mankind, but to look upon them. Under this Class of 
Men are comprehended all contemplative Tradesmen, titular 
Physicians, Fellows of the Royal Society, Templers that are not 
given to be contentious, and Statesmen that are out of Busi¬ 
ness ; in short, every one that considers the World as a Theatre, 
and desires to form a right Judgment of those who are the 
Actors on it. 

There is another Set of Men that I must likewise lay a 
Claim to, whom I have lately called the Blanks of Society, as 
being altogether unfurnish’d with Ideas, till the Business and 
Conversation of the Day has supplied them. I have often 
consider'd these poor Souls with an Eye of great Commisera¬ 
tion, when I have heard them asking tiie first Man they have 
met with, whether there was any News stirring ? and by that 
Means gathering together Materiads for thinking. These needy 
Persons do not know what to talk of, 'till about twelve a Clock 
in the Morning; for by that Time they are pretty good Judges 
of the Weather, know which Way the Wind sits, and whether 
the Dutch Mail be come in. As they lie at the Mercy of the 
first Man they meet, and are grave or impertinent all the Day 



No. lo. Monday, March 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 33 

long, according to the Notions which they have imbibed in the 
Morning, I would earnestly entreat them not to stir out of their 
Chambers 'till they have read this Paper, and do promise them 
that I will daily instil into them such sound and wholesom 
Sentiments, as shall have a good Effect on their Conversation 
for the ensuing twelve Hours. 

But there are none to whom this Paper will be more useful, 
than to the Female World. I have often thought there has 
not been sufficient Pains taken in finding out proper Employ¬ 
ments and Diversions for the Fair ones. Their Amusements 
seem contrived for them rather as they are Women, than as 
they are reasonable Creatures; and are more adapted to the 
Sex than to the Species. The Toilet is their great Scene of 
Business, and the right adjusting of their Hair the principal 
Employment of their Lives. The sorting of a Suit of Ribbons 
is reckon'd a very good Morning's Work; and if they make an 
Excursion to a Mercer’s or a Toy-shop, so great a Fatigue makes 
them unfit for any thing else all the Day after. Their more 
serious Occupations are Sowing and Embroidery, and their 
greatest Drudgery the Preparation of Jellies and Sweet-meats. 
This, I say, is the State of ordinary Women; tho' I know there 
are Multitudes of those of a more elevated Life and Conversa¬ 
tion, that move in an exalted Sphere of Knowledge and Virtue, 
that join all the Beauties of the Mind to the Ornaments of 
Dress, and inspire a kind of Awe and Respect, as well as Love, 
into their Male-Beholders. I hope to encrease the Number of 
these by Publishing this daily Paper, which I shall always 
endeavour to make an innocent if not an improving Entertain¬ 
ment, and by that Means at least divert the Minds of my 
Female Readers from greater Trifles. At the same Time, as I 
would fain give some finishing Touches to those which are 
already the most beautiful Pieces in human Nature, I shall 
endeavour to point out all those Imperfections that are the 
Blemishes, as well as those Virtues which are the Embellish¬ 
ments, of the Sex. In the mean while I hope these my gentle 
Readers, who have so much Time on their Hands, will not 
grudge throwing away a Quarter of an Hour in a Day on this 
Paper, since they may do it without any Hindrance to Business. 

I know several of my Friends and Well-wishers are in great 
Pain for me, lest I should not be able to keep up the Spirit of a 
Paper which I oblige my self to furnish every Day: But to make 
them easie in this Particular, I will promise them faithfully to 
give it over as soon as I grow dull. This I know will be Matter 
of great Raillery to the small Wits; who will frequently put me 
in mind of my Promise, desire me to keep my Word, assure 
me that it is high Time to give over, with many other littltf 



34 THE SPECTATOR No. lo. Monday, March 12, 1711 

Pleasantries of the like Nature, which Men of a little smart 
Genius cannot forbear throwing out against their best Friends, 
when they have such a Handle given them of being witty. 
But let them remember that I do hereby enter my Caveat 
against this Piece of Raillery. C 


No. II. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, March 13. 

Dat veniam cotvis, vexat censura columhas. —Juv. 

Arietta is visited by all Persons of both Sexes, who have any 
Pretence to Wit and Gallantry. She is in that time of Life 
which is neither affected with the Follies of Youth, or Infirmi¬ 
ties of Age; and her Conversation is so mixed with Gaiety and 
Prudence, that she is agreeable both to the Young and the Old. 
Her Behaviour is very frank, without being in the least blame- 
able ; and as she is out of the Tract of any amorous or ambitious 
Pursuits of her own, her Visitants entertain her with Accounts 
of themselves very freely, whether they concern their Passions 
or their Interests. I made her a Visit this Afternoon, having 
been formerly introduced to the Honour of her Acquaintance, 
by my Friend Will. Honeycomb, who has prevailed upon her 
to admit me sometimes into her Assembly, as a civil inoffen¬ 
sive Man. I found her accompanied with one Person only, a 
Common-Place Talker, who, upon my Entrance, rose, and after 
a very slight Civility sat down again; then turning to Arietta, 
pursued his Di.scourse, which I found was upon the old Topick 
of Constancy in Love. He went on with great Facility in 
repeating what he talks every Day of his Life; and, with the 
Ornaments of insignificant Laughs and Gestures, enforced his 
Arguments by Quotations out of Plays and Songs, which allude 
to the Perjuries of the Fair, and the general Levity of Women. 
Methought he strove to shine more than ordinarily in his 
Talkative Way, that he might insult my Silence, and dis¬ 
tinguish himself before a Woman of Arietta's Taste and Under¬ 
standing. She had often an Inclination to interrupt him, but 
could find no Opportunity, till the Larum ceased of it self; which 
it did not 'till he had repeated and murdered the celebrated 
Story of the Ephesian Matron. 

Arietta seemed to regard this Piece of Raillery as an Outrage 
done to her Sex; as indeed I have always observed that Women, 
whether out of a nicer Regard to their Honour, or what other 
Reason I cannot tell, are more sensibly touched with those 
general Aspersions which are cast upon their Sex, than Men 
are by what is said of theirs. 



No. n. Tuesday, March 13, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 35 

When she had a little recovered her self from the serious 
Anger she was in, she replied in the following manner. 

Sir, When I consider how perfectly new all you have said on 
this Subject is, and that the Story you have given us is not quite 
Two thousand Years old. I cannot but think it a Piece of Pre¬ 
sumption to dispute with you: But your Quotations put me in 
Mind of the Fable of the Lion and the Man. The Man walking 
with that noble Animal, shewed him, in the Ostentation of 
Human Superiority, a Sign of a Man killing a I-ion. Upon 
which the Lion said very justly, We Lions are none of us 
Painters, else we could shew a hundred Men killed by Lions, for 
one Lion killed by a Man. You Men are Writers, and can 
represent us Women as Unbecoming as you please in your 
Works, while we are unable to return the Injury. You have 
twice or thrice observed in your Discourse, that Hypocrisie is 
the very Foundation of our Education; and that an Ability to 
dissemble our Affections, is a j)rofessed Part of our Breeding. 
These, and such other Reflections, are sprinkled up and down 
the Writings of all Ages, by Authors, who leave behind them 
Memorials of their Resentment against the Scorn of particular 
Women, in Invectives against the whole Sex. Such a Writer, 

I doubt not, was the celebrated Peironius, who invented the 
pleasant Aggravations of the Frailty of the Ephesian Lady; 
but when we consider this Question between the Sexes, which 
has been cither a Point of Dispute or Raillery ever since there 
were Men and Women, let us take Facts from plain People, 
and from such as have not either Ambition or Capacity to 
embellish their Narrations with any Beauties of Imagination. 

I was the other Day amusing my self with Ligon's Account of 
Barbadoes', and, in Answer to your well-wrought Tale, I will 
give you (as it dwells upon my Memory) out of that honest 
Traveller, in his fifty fifth Page, the History of Inkle and 
Yarico. 

Mr. Thomas Inkle, of London, aged twenty Years, embarked 
in the Downs on the good Ship called the Achilles, bound for 
the West-Indies, on the i6th of June, 1647, in order to improve 
his Fortune by Trade and Merchandize. Our Adventurer was 
the third Son of an eminent Citizen, who had taken particular 
Care to instill into his Mind an early Love of Gain, by making 
him a perfect Master of Numbers, and consequently giving 
him a quick View of Loss and Advantage, and preventing the 
natural Impulses of his Passions, by Prepossession towards his 
Interests. With a Mind thus turned, young Inkle had a Person 
every way agreeable, a ruddy Vigour in his Countenance, 
Strength in his Limbs, with Ringlets of fair Hair loosely flowing 
on his Shoulders. It happened, in the Course of the Voyage,. 



36 THE SPECTATOR No.ii. Tuesday, March is, ^7^^ 

that the Achilles, in some Distress, put into a Creek on the Main 
of America, in Search of Provisions: The Youth, who is the 
Hero of my Story, among others, went ashore on this Occasion. 
From their first Landing they were observed by a Party of 
Indians, who hid themselves in the Woods for that Purpose. 
The English unadvisedly marched a great distance from the 
Shore into the Country, and were intercepted by the Natives, 
who slew the greatest Number of them. Our Adventurer 
escaped among others, by flying into a Forest. Upon his 
coming into a remote and pathless Part of the Wood, he threw 
himself, tired and breathless, on a little Hillock, when an 
Indian Maid rushed from a Thicket behind him: After the 
first Surprize, they appeared mutually agreeable to each other. 
If the European was highly Charmed with the Limbs, Features, 
and wild Graces of the Naked American; the American was no 
less taken with the Dress, Complexion, and Shape of an 
European, covered from Head to Foot. The Indian grew im¬ 
mediately enamoured of him, and consequently sollicitous for 
his Preservation: She therefore conveyed him to a Cave, where 
she gave him a delicious Repa.st of Fruits, and led him to a 
Stream to slake his Thirst. In the midst of these good Offices, 
she would sometimes play with his Hair, and delight in the 
Opposition of its Colour to that of her Fingers: Then open his 
Bosom, then laugh at him for covering it. She was, it seems, 
a Person of Distinction, for she every Day came to him in a 
different Dress, of the most beautiful Shells, Bugles, and Bredes. 
She likewise brought him a great many Spoils, which her other 
Lovers had presented to her; so that his Cave was richly 
adorned with all the spotted Skins of Beasts, and most Party- 
coloured Feathers of Fowls, which that World afforded. To 
make his Confinement more tolerable, she would carry him in 
the dusk of the Evening, or by the favour of Moonlight, to un¬ 
frequented Groves and Solitudes, and shew him where to lye 
down in Safety, and sleep amidst the Falls of Waters, and 
Melody of Nightingales. Her Part was to watch and hold him 
awake in her Arms, for fear of her Countrymen, and awake him 
on Occasions to consult his Safety. In this manner did the 
Lovers pass away their Time, till they had leam'd a Language 
of their own, in which the Voyager communicated to his Mis¬ 
tress, how happy he should be to have her in his Country, 
where she should be Cloathed in such Silks as his Wastecoat 
was made of, and be carried in Houses drawn by Horses, with¬ 
out being exposed to Wind or Weather. All tffis he promised 
her the Enjoyment of, without such Fears and Alarms as they 
were there tormented with. In this tender Correspondence 
these Lovers lived for several Months, when Yarico, instructed 



No, II. Tuesday, March 13, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 37 

by her Lover, discovered a Vessel On the Coast, to which she 
made Signals; and in the Night, with the utmost Joy and 
Satisfaction, accompanied him to a Ship's-Crew of his Country¬ 
men, bound for Bayhadoes. When a Vessel from the Main 
arrives in that Island, it seems the Planters come down to the 
Shoar, where there is an immediate Market of the Indians and 
other Slaves, as with us of Horses and Oxen. 

To be short, Mr. Thomas Inkle, now coming into English 
Territories, began seriously to reflect upon his loss of Time, and 
to weigh with himself how many Days Interest of his Money 
he had lost during his Stay with Yarico. This Thought made 
the young Man very pensive, and careful what Account he 
should be able to give his Friends of his Voyage. Upon which 
Considerations, the prudent and frugal young Man sold Yarico 
to a Barbadian Merchant; notwithstanding that the poor Girl, 
to incline him to commiserate her Condition, told him that she 
was with Child by him: But he only made use of that Informa¬ 
tion, to rise in his Demands upon the Purchaser. 

I was so touch'd with this Story, (which I think should be 
always a Counterpart to the Ephesian Matron) that I left the 
Room with Tears in my Eyes; which a Woman of Arietta'^ 
good Sense, did, I am sure, take for greater Applause, than any 
Compliments I could make her. R 


No. 12. 

ADDISON.] Wednesday, March 14. 

. . . Veteres avias tibi de pulmone revello. —Pers, 

At my coming to London, it was some time before I could 
settle my self in a House to my liking. I was forced to quit 
my first Lodgings, by reason of an officious Landlady, that 
would be asking me every Morning how I had slept. I then 
fell into an honest Family, and lived very happily for above a 
Week; when my Landlord, who wais a jolly good-natured Man, 
took it into his Head that I wanted Company, and therefore 
would frequently come into my Chamber to keep me from 
being alone. This I bore for two or three Days; but telling 
me one Day that he was afraid I was melancholy, I thought 
it was high time for me to be gone, and accordingly took new 
Lodgings that very Night. About a Week after, I found my 
jolly L^dlord, who, as I said before, was an honest hearty 
Man, had put me into an Advertisement of the Daily Courant, 
in the following Words. Whereas a melancholy Man left his 
Lodgings on Thursday last in the Afternoon, and was afterwards^ 



38 THE SPECTATOR No. 12. Wednesday, March 14,1711 

seen going towards Islington; If any one can give Notice of him 
to R. B. Fishmonger in the Strand, he shall he very well rewarded 
for his pains. As I am the best Man in the World to keep 
my own Counsel, and my Landlord the Fishmonger not know¬ 
ing my Name, this Accident of my Life was never discovered 
to this very Day. 

I am now settled with a Widow-woman, who has a great 
many Children, and complies with my Humour in every thing. 
I do not remember that we have exchanged a Word together 
these Five Years; my Coffee comes into my Chamber every 
Morning without asking for it; if I want Fire I point to my 
Chimney, if Water to my Bason: Upon which my Landlady 
nodds, as much as to say she takes my Meaning, and immedi¬ 
ately obeys my Signals. She has likewise model’d her Family 
so well, that when her little Boy offers to pull me by the Coat, 
or prattle in my Face, his eldest Sister immediately calls him 
off, and bids him not disturb the Gentleman. At my first 
entring into the Family, I was troubled with the Civility of 
their rising up to me every time I came into the Room; but my 
Landlady observing that upon these Occasions I always cried 
Pish, and went out again, has forbidden any such Ceremony to 
be used in the House; so that at present I walk into the 
Kitchen or Parlour without being taken notice of, or giving 
any Interruption to the Business or Discourse of the Family. 
The Maid will ask her Mistress (tho’ I am by) whether the 
Gentleman is ready to go to Dinner, as the Mistress (who is 
indeed an excellent Housewife) scolds at the Servants as 
heartily before my Face as behind my Back. In short, I move 
up and down the House and enter into all Companies, with the 
same Liberty as a Cat or any other Domestick Animal, and am 
as little suspected of telling any thing that I hear or see. 

I remember last Winter there were several young Girls of 
the Neighbourhood sitting about the Fire with my Landlady's 
Daughters, and telling Stories of Spirits and Apparitions. 
Upon my opening the Door the young Women broke off their 
Discourse, but my Landlady's Daughters telling them that it 
was no Body but the Gentleman (for that is the Name which I 
go by in the Neighbourhood as well as in the Family) they went 
on without minding me. I seated my self by the Candle that 
stood on a Table at one end of the Room; and pretending to 
read a Book that I took out of my Pocket, heard several 
dreadful Stories of Ghosts as pale as Ashes that had stood at 
the Feet of a Bed, or walked over a Church-yard by Moon¬ 
light: And of others that had been conjured into the Red- 
Sea, for disturbing People's Rest, and drawing their Curtains 
at Midnight; with many other old Women's Fables of the like 



No. 12. Wednesday, March 14,1711 THE SPECTATOR 39 

nature. As one Spirit raised another, I observed that at the 
End of every Story the whole Company closed their Ranks, and 
crouded about the Fire: I took Notice in particular of a little 
Boy, who was so attentive to every Story, that I am mistaken 
if he ventures to go to Bed by himself this Twelve-month. 
Indeed they talked so long, that the Imaginations of the whole 
Assembly were manifestly crazed, and I am sure will be the 
worse for it as long as they live. I heard one of the Girls, 
that had looked upon me over her Shoulder, asking the Com¬ 
pany how long I had been in the Room, and whether I did 
not look paler than I used to do. This put me under some 
Apprehensions that I should be forced to explain my self if I 
did not retire; for which Reason I took the Candle in my Hand, 
and went up into my Chamber, not without wondering at this 
unaccountable Weakness in reasonable Creatures, that they 
should love to astonish and terrifie one another. Were I a 
Father, I should take a particular Care to preserve my Children 
from these little Horrors of Imagination, which they are apt to 
contract when they are young, and are not able to shake off 
when they are in Years. I have known a Soldier that has 
entered a Breach, affrighted at his own Shadow; and look pale 
upon a little scratching at his Door, who the Day before had 
marched up against a Battery of Cannon. There are Instances 
of Persons, who have been terrified, even to Distraction, at the 
Figure of a Tree, or the shaking of a Bull-rush. The Truth of 
it is, I look upon a sound Imagination as the greatest Blessing 
of Life, next to a clear Judgment and a good Conscience. In 
the mean time, since there are very few whose Mitids are not 
more or less subject to these dreadful Thoughts and Appre¬ 
hensions, we ought to arm our selves against them by the 
Dictates of Reason and Religion, to pull the old Woman out of 
our Hearts (as Persius expresses it in the Motto of my Paper) 
and extinguish those impertinent Notions which we imbibed 
at a Time that we were not able to judge of their Absurdity. 
Or if we believe, as many wise and good Men have done, that 
there are such Phantoms and Apparitions as those I have been 
speaking of, let us endeavour to establish to our selves an In¬ 
terest in him who holds the Reins of the whole Creation in 
his Hand, and moderates them after such a Manner, that it is 
impossible for one Being to break loose upon another without 
his Knowledge and Permission. 

For my own Part, I am apt to join in Opinion with those 
who believe that all the Regions of Nature swarm with Spirits; 
and that we have Multitudes of Spectators on all our Actions, 
when we think our selves most alone: But instead of terrifying 
myself with such a Notion, I am wonderfully pleased to think 



40 THE SPECTATOR No. 12. Wednesday, March 14,1711 

that I am always engaged with such an innumerable Society, 
in searching out the Wonders of the Creation, and joining in 
the same Consort of Praise and Adoration. 

Milton has finely described this mixed Communion of Men 
and Spirits in Paradise; and had doubtless his Eye upon a 
Verse in old Hesiod, which is almost Word for Word the same 
with his third Line in the following Passage. 

. . . Nor think, though Men were none. 

That Heaven would want Spectators, God want Praise; 
Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth 
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep: 

All these with ceaseless Praise his Works behold 
Both Day and Night. How often from the Steep 
Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard 
Celestial Voices to the midnight Air, 

Sole, or responsive each to other's Note, 

Singing their great Creator? Oft in Bands 
While they keep Watch, or nightly rounding walk 
With heav'nly Touch of instrumental Sounds, 

In full harmonick Number join'd their Songs 
Divide the Night, and lift our Thoughts to Heav’n. 


No. 13. 

[ADDISON,] Thursday, March 15. 

Die mihi, si fias tu leo, qualis eris ?— Mart. 

There is nothing that of late Years has afforded Matter of 
greater Amusement to the Town than Signior Nicolini’s 
Combat with a Lion in the Hay-Market, which has been very 
often exhibited to the general Satisfaction of most of the 
Nobility and Gentry in the Kingdom of Great Britain. Upon 
the first Rumour of this intended Combat, it was confidently 
affirmed, and is still believed by many in both Galleries, that 
there would be a tame Lion sent from the Tower every Opera 
Night, in order to be killed by Hydaspes', this Report, though 
altogether groundless, so universally prevailed in the upper 
Regions of the Play-house, that some of the most refined 
Politicians in those Parts of the Audience gave it out in 
Whisper, that the Lion was a Cousin-German of the Tygei 
who. n^de his Appearance in King William^s Days, and that 
the Stage would be supplied with Lions at the pubUck Ex¬ 
pence, during the whole Session. Many likewise were the 
Conjectures of the Treatment which this Lion was to meet 
with from the Hands of Simior Nicolini; some supposed that 
he was to subdue him in §efitativo, as Orpheus used to serve 
the wild Beasts in his time, and afterwards to knock him on 



No,i^. Thursday, March IS, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 41 

the Head; some fancied that the Lion would not pretend to 
lay his Paws upon the Hero, by reason of the received Opinion, 
that a Lion wUl not hurt a Virgin: Several, who pretended to 
have seen the Opera in Italy, had informed their Friends, that 
the Lion was to act a Part in High-Dutch, and roar twice or 
thrice to a Thorough Base, before he fell at the Feet of Hydaspes. 
To clear up a Matter that was so variously reported, I have 
made it my Business to examine whether this pretended Lion 
is really the Savage he appears to be, or only a Counterfeit. 

But before I communicate my Discoveries, I must acquaint 
the Reader, that upon my walking behind the Scenes last 
Winter, as I was thinking on something else, I accidentally 
justled against a monstrous Animal that extreamly startled 
me, and upon my nearer Survey of it, appeared to be a Lion 
Rampant. The Lion, seeing me very much surprized, told me, 
in a gentle Voice, that I might come by him if I pleased: For 
(says he) I do not intend to hurt any body. I thanked him very 
kindly, and passed by him. And in a little time after saw him 
leap upon the Stage, and act his Part with very great Applause. 
It has been observed by several, that the Lion has changed his 
manner of Acting twice or thrice since his first Appearance; 
which will not seem strange, when I acquaint my Reader that 
the Lion has been changed upon the Audience three several 
times. The first Lion was a Candle-snuffer, who being a Fellow 
of a testy cholerick Temper over-did his Part, and would not 
suffer himself to be killed so easily as he ought to have done; 
besides, it was observed of him, that he grew more surly every 
time he came out of the Lion; and having dropt some Words in 
ordinary Conversation, as if he had not fought his best, and 
that he suffered himself to be thrown upon his Back in the 
Scuffle, and that he would wrestle with Mr. Nicolini for what he 
pleased, out of his Lion’s Skin, it was thought proper to discard 
him: And it is verily believed to this Day, that had he been 
brought upon the Stage another time, he would certainly have 
done Mischief. Besides, it was objected against the first Lion, 
that he reared himself so high upon his hinder Paws, and walked 
in so erect a Posture, that he looked more like an old Man 
than a Lion. 

The second Lion was a Taylor by Trade, who belonged to 
the Play-house, and had the Character of a mild and peaceable 
Man in his Profession. If the former was too furious, this was 
too sheepish, for his Part; insomuch that after a short modest 
Walk upon the Stage, he would fall at the first Touch of 
Hydaspes, without grapling with him, and giving him an 
Opportunity of showing his Variety of Italian Tripps; It is 
said indeed, that he once gave him a Ripp in his ffesh-colour • 



42 THE SPECTATOR No. 13. Thursday, March 15, 1711 

Doublet, but this was only to make Work for himself, in his 
private Character of a Taylor. I must not omit that it was 
this second Lion who treated me with so much Humanity 
behind the Scenes. 

The Acting Lion at present is, as I am informed, a Country 
Gentleman, who docs it for his Diversion, but desires his Name 
may be concealed. He says very handsomely in his own Excuse 
that he does not Act for Gain, that he indulges an innocent 
Pleasure in it, and that it is better to pass away an Evening 
in this manner, than in Gaming and Drinking; But at the 
same time says, with a very agreeable Raillery upon himself, 
that if his Name should be known, the ill-natured World might 
call him. The Ass in the Lion’s Skin. This Gentleman's 
Temper is made out of such a happy Mixture of the Mild and 
the Cholerick, that he out-does both his Predecessors, and has 
drawn together greater Audiences than have been known in 
the Memory of Man. 

I must not conclude my Narrative, without taking Notice of 
a groundless Report that has been raised, to a Gentleman's 
Disadvantage, of whom I must declare my self an Admirer; 
namely, that Signior Nicolini and the Lion have been seen 
sitting peaceably by one another, and smoaking a Pipe together, 
behind the Scenes; by which their common Enemies would 
insinuate, that it is but a sham Combat which they represent 
upon the Stage: But upon Enquiry I find, that if any such 
Correspondence has passed between them, it was not till the 
Combat was over, when the Lion was to be looked upon as 
dead, according to the received Rules of the Drama. Besides, 
this is what is practised every Day in Westminster-Hall, where 
nothing is more usual than to see a Couple of Lawyers, who have 
been tearing each other to pieces in the Court, embracing one 
another as soon as they are out of it. 

I would not be thought, in any part of this Relation, to 
reflect upon Signior Nicolini, who in Acting this Part only 
complies with the wretched Taste of his Audience; he knows 
very well, that the Lion has many more Admirers than him¬ 
self; as they say of the famous Equestrian Statue on the Pont- 
Neuf at Paris, that more People go to see the Horse, than the 
King who sits upon it. On the contrary, it gives me a just 
Indignation, to see a Person whose Action gives new Majesty 
to Kings, Resolution to Heroes, and Softness to Lovers, thus 
sinking from the Greatness of his Behaviour, and degraded 
into the Character of the London Prentice. I have often 
wished, that our Tragoedians would copy after this great 
Master in Action. Could they make the same use of their 
Arms and Legs, and inform their Faces with as significant 



No. 13. Thursday, March 15, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 43 

Looks and Passions, how glorious would an English Tragedy 
appear with that Action, which is capable of giving a Dignity 
to the forced Thoughts, cold Conceits, and unnatural Expres¬ 
sions of an Italian Opera. In the mean time, I have related 
this Combat of the Lion, to shew what are at present the 
reigning Entertainments of the Politer Part of Great Britain. 

Audiences have often been reproached by Writers for the 
Coarseness of their Taste, but our present Grievance does not 
seem to be the Want of a good Taste, but of Common Sense. 

C 


No. 14. 

[STEELE.] Friday, March 16. 

. . . Teque his infelix exue monstris. —Ovid. 

I WAS reflecting this Morning upon the Spirit and Humour of 
the pulflick Diversions Five and twenty Years ago, and those 
of the present Time; and lamented to my self, that though in 
those Days they neglected their Morality, they kept up their 
Good Sense; but that the beau Monde at present is only grown 
more childish, not more innocent, than the former. While I 
was in this Train of Thought, an odd Fellow, whose Face I have 
often seen at the Play-house, gave me the following Letter 
with these Words, Sir, The Lion presents his humble Service to 
you, and desired me to give this into your own Hands. 

'From my Den in the Hay-Market, March 15. 

Sir, 

I have read all your Papers, and have stifled my Resentment 
against your Reflections upon Operas, 'till that of this Day, 
wherein you plainly insinuate that Signior Grimaldi and my 
self have a Correspondence more friendly than is consistent with 
the Valour of his Character, or the Fierceness of mine. I 
desire you would for your own Sake forbear such Intimations 
for the future; and must say it is a great Piece of Ill-nature in 
you, to shew so great an Esteem for a Foreigner, and to dis¬ 
courage a Lion that is your own Country-man. 

I take notice of your Fable of the Lion and Man, but am so 
equally concerned in that Matter, that I shall not be oflended 
to which soever of the Animals the Superiority is given. You 
have misrepresented me, in saying that I am a Country Gentle¬ 
man who act only for my Diversion; whereas, had I still the 
same Woods to range in which I once had when I was a Fox- 
hunter, I should not resign my Manhood for a Maintenance;* 



44 THE SPECTATOR No, 14. Friday, March 16, 1711 

and assure you, as low as my Circumstances are at present, 1 
am so much a Man of Honour, that 1 would scorn to be any 
Beast for Bread but a Lion. . 

Yours, &c. 

I had no sooner ended this, than one of my Landlady's 
Children brought me in several others, with some of which I 
shall make up my present Paper, they all having a Tendency 
to the same Subject, vis. the Elegance of our present Diversions. 


*Sir, Covent-Garden, March tj. 

I have been for twenty Years Under-Sexton of this Parish of 
St, PauVa, Covent-Garden, and have not missed tolling in to 
Prayers six times in all those Years; which Office I have per¬ 
formed to my ^eat Satisfaction, till this Fortnight last past, 
during which Time I find my Congregation take the Warning 
of my Bell, Morning and Evening, to go to a Puppet-Show set 
forth by one Powell under the Piazzas. By this Means I have 
not only lost my two Customers, whom I used to place for 
Six-pence a-piece over-against Mrs. Rachel Eye-hright, but Mrs. 
Rachel her self is gone thither also. There now appear among 
us none but a few ordinary People, who come to Church only 
to say their Prayers, so that I have no Work worth speaking 
of but on Sundays. I have placed my Son at the Piazzas, to 
acquaint the Ladies that the Bell rings for Church, and that it 
stands on the other Side of the Garden; but they only laugh 
at the Child. 

I desire you would lay this before all the World, that I may 
not be made such a Tool for the future, and that Punchinello 
may chuse Hours less canonical. As things are now, Mr. 
Powell has a full Congregation, while we have a very thin 
House; which if you can remedy, you will very much oblige, 

6 *>, 

Your, &c.' 


The following Epistle I find is from the Undertaker of the 
Masquerade. 

‘ Sir, 

I have observed the Rules of my Masque so carefully (in not 
enquiring into Persons) that I cannot tell whether you were one 
of the C^pany or not last Tuesday; but if you were not, and 
still design to come, I desire you would, for your own Enter¬ 
tainment, please to admonish the Town, that all Persons 
indifferently are not fit for this sort of Diversion. I could 
wish. Sir, you could make them understand, that it is a kind of 
acting to go in Masquerade, and a Man should be able to say or 
do things proper for the Dress in which he appears. We have 



No. 1^. Friday, March i6, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 45 

now and then Rakes in the Habit of Roman Senators, and grave 
Politicians in the Dress of Rakes. The Misfortune of the thing 
is, that People dress themselves in what they have a Mind to 
be, and not what they are fit for. There is not a Girl in the 
Town, but let her have her Will in going to a Masque, and she 
shall dress as a Shepherdess. But let me beg of them to read 
the Arcadia, or some other good Romance, before they appear 
in any such Character at my House. The last Day we pre¬ 
sented, every Body was so rashly habited, that when they came 
to speak to each other, a Nymph with a Crook had not a Word 
to say but in the pert Stile of the Pit Bawdry; and a Man in 
the Habit of a Philosopher was speechless, till an Occasion 
offered of expressing himself in the Refuse of the Tyring-Rooms. 
We had a Judge that danced a Minuet, with a Quaker for his 
Partner, while half a dozen Harlequins stood by as- Spectators: 
A Turk drank me off two Bottles of Wine, and a Jew Qdct me up 
half a Plam of Bacon. If I can bring my Design to bear, and 
make the Masquers preserve their Characters in my Assemblies, 
I hope you will allow there is a Foundation laid for more elegant 
and improving Gallantries than any the Town at present 
affords; and consequently, that you will give your Approba¬ 
tion to the Endeavours of. 

Sir, 

Your most obedient humble Servant.* 

I am very glad the following Epistle obliges me to mention 
Mr. Powell a second Time in the same Paper; for indeed there 
cannot be too great Encouragement given to his Skill in Motions, 
provided he is under proper Restrictions. 


The Opera at the Hay-Market, and that under the little 
Piazza in Covent-Garden, being at present the two leading 
Diversions of the Town, and Mr. Powell professing in his 
Advertisements to set up Whittington and his Cat against 
Rinaldo and Armida, my Curiosity led me the Beginning of last 
Week to view both these Performances, and make my Observa¬ 
tions upon them. 

First therefore, I cannot but observe that Mr. Powell wisely 
forbearing to give his Company a Bill of Fare before-hand, 
every Scene is new and unexpected; whereas it is certain, that 
the Undertakers of the Hay-Market, having raised too great an 
Expectation in their printed Opera, very much disappoint their 
Audience on the Stage. 

The King of Jerusalem is obliged to come from the City on 
foot, instead of being drawn in a triumphant Chariot by white* 



46 THE SPECTATOR No. 14. Friday, March i6, 1711 

Horses, as my Opera-Book had promised me; and thus while 
I expected Armida's, Dragons should rush forward towards 
Argantes, I found the Hero was obliged to go to Armida, and 
hand her out of her Coach. had also but a very short 
Allowance of Thunder and Lightning; tho’ I cannot in this 
Place omit doing Justice to the Boy who had the Direction of 
the Two painted Dragons, and made them spit Fire and Smoke: 
He flash’d out his Rosin in such just Proportions and in such 
due Time, that I could not forbear conceiving Hopes of his 
being one Day a most excellent Player. I saw indeed but Two 
things wanting to render his whole Action compleat, I mean the 
keeping his Head a little lower, and hiding his Candle. 

I observe that Mr. Powell and the Undertakers had both the 
same Thought, and I think much about the same time, of 
introducing*Animals on their several Stages, tho' intleed with 
very difierent Success. The Sparrows and Chaffinches at the 
Hay-Market fly as yet very irregularly over the Stage; and 
instead of perching on the Trees and performing their Parts, 
these young Actors either get into the Galleries or put out the 
Candles; whereas Mr. Powell has so well disciplin'd his Pig, 
that in the first Scene he and Punch dance a Minuet together. 
I am informed however, that Mr. Powell resolves to excell 
his Adversaries in their own Way; and introduce Larks in his 
next Opera of Susanna, or Innocence betrayed, which will be 
exhibited next Week with a Pair of new Elders. 

The Moral of Mr. PowelVs Drama is violated, I confess, by 
Punch's national Reflections on the French, and King Harry's 
laying his Leg upon the Queen’s Lap in too ludicrous a manner 
before so great an Assembly. 

As to the Mechanisn^ and Scenary, every thing indeed was 
uniform and of a Piece, and the Scenes were managed very 
dexterously; which calls on me to take notice, that at the 
Hay-Market the Undertakers forgetting to change their Side- 
Scenes, we were presented with a Prospect of the Ocean in the 
midst of a delightful Grove; and tho' the Gentlemen on the 
Stage had very much contributed to the Beauty of the Grove 
by walking up and down between the Trees, I must own I was 
not a httle astonished to see a well-dressed young Fellow, in 
a full-bottom’d Wigg, appear in the midst of the Sea, and with¬ 
out any visible Concern taking Snuff. 

1 shall only observe one thing further, in which both Dramas 
agree; which is, that by the Squeak of their Voices the Heroes 
of each are Eunuchs; and as -the Wit in both Pieces is equal, 
I must prefer the Performance of Mr. Powell, because it is in 
our own Language. 

R I am. See,' 



No..is. Saturday, March 17, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 47 
No. 15. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, March 17. 

Parva leves capiunt animos. —Ovid. 

When I was in France, I used to gaze with great Astonishment 
at the Splendid Equipages, and Party-coloured Habits, of that 
Fantastick Nation. I was one Day in particular conteinpJating 
a Lady, that sate in a Coach adorned with gilded Cupids, 
and finely painted with the Loves of Venus and Adonis. The 
Coach was drawn by six milk-white Horses, and loaden behind 
with the same Number of powder’d Footmen. Just before 
the Lady were a Couple of beautiful Pages, that were stuck 
among the Harness, and, by their gay Dresses and smiling 
Features, looked like the elder Brothers of the httle Boys that 
were carved and painted in every corner of the Coach. 

The Lady was the unfortunate Cleanthe, who afterwards 
gave an Occasion to a pretty melancholy Novel. She had, for 
several Years, received the Addresses of a Gentleman, whom, 
after a long and intimate Acquaintance she forsook, upon the 
Account of this shining Equipage, which had been offered to 
her by one of Great Riches, but a Crazy Constitution. The 
Circumstances in which I saw her, were, it seems, the Dis¬ 
guises only of a broken Heart, and a kind of Pageantry to 
cover Distress; for in two Months after she was carried to her 
Grave with the same Pomp and Magnificence; being sent 
tliither partly by the Loss of one Lover, and partly by the 
Possession of another. 

I have often reflected with my self on this unaccountable 
Humour in Woman-kind, of being smitten with every thing 
that is showy and superficial; and on the numberless Evils that 
befal the Sex, from tnis light fantastical Disposition. I my self 
remember a young Lady, that was very warmly sollicited by a 
Couple of importunate Rivals, who for several Months together 
did all they could to recommend themselves, by Complacency 
of Behaviour, and Agreeableness of Conversation. At length, 
when the Competition was doubtful, and the Lady undeter¬ 
mined in her Choice, one of the young Lovers very luckily 
bethought himself of adding a supernumerary Lace to his 
Liveries, which had so good an Effect that he Married her tire 
very Week after. 

The usual Co^versation of ordinary Women very much 
cherishes this natural Wealoiess of being taken with Outside 
and Appearance. Talk of a new-married Couple, and you 
immediately hear whether they keep their Coach and six, or 
eat in Plate: Mention the Name of an absent Lady, and it is 
ten to one but you learn something of her Gown and Petticoat.^ 



48 THE SPECTATOR No 15. Saturday, March 17, 1711 

A Ball is a great Help to Discourse, and a Birth-Day furnishes 
Conversation for a Twelve-month after. A Furbelow of 
precious Stones, an Hat buttoned with a Diamond, a Brocade 
Waistcoat or Petticoat, are standing Topicks. In short, they 
consider only the Drapery of the Species, and never cast away 
a Thought on those Ornaments of the Mind, that make Persons 
Illustrious in themselves, and Useful to others. When Women 
are thus perpetually dazling one another's Imaginations, and 
filling their Heads with nothing but Colours, it is no Wonder 
that they are more attentive to the superficial Parts of Life, 
than the solid and substantial Blessings of it. A Girl, who has 
been trained up in this kind of Conversation, is in danger of 
every Embroidered Coat that comes in her Way. A Pair of 
fringed Gloves may be her Ruin. In a word. Lace and 
Ribbons, Silver and Gold Galloons, with the like glittering 
Gew-gaws, are so many Lures to Women of weak Minds or low 
Educations, and, when artificially displayed, are able to fetch 
down the most airy Coquet from the wildest of her Flights 
and Rambles. 

True Happiness is of a retired Nature, and an Enemy to 
Pomp and Noise; it arises, in the first place, from the Enjoy¬ 
ment of one's self; and, in the next, from the Friendship and 
Conversation of a few select Companions. It loves Shade and 
Solitude, and naturally haunts Groves and Fountains, Fields 
and Meadows: In short, it feels every thing it wants within it 
self, and receives no Addition from Multitudes of Witnesses and 
Spectators. On the contrary, false Happiness loves to be in a 
Crowd, and to draw the Eyes of the World upon her. She does 
not receive any Satisfaction from the Applauses which she 
gives her self, but from the Admiration which she raises in 
others. She flourishes in Courts and Palaces, Theatres and 
Assemblies, and has no Existence but when she is looked upon. 

Aurelia, though a Woman of great Quality, delights in the 
Privacy of a Country Life, and passes away a great part of her 
Time in her own Walks and Gardens. Her husband, who is 
her Bosom Friend, and Companion in her Solitudes, has been 
in Love with her ever since he knew her. They both abound 
with good Sense, consummate Virtue, and a mutual Esteem; 
and are a perpetual Entertainment to one another. Their 
Family is under so regular am Oeconomy, in its Hours of De¬ 
votion and Repawt, Employment and Diversion, that it looks 
liktr a little Common-wealth within it self. They often go into 
Company, that they may return with the greater Delight to 
one another; and sometimes live in Town, not to enjoy it so 
properly ais to grow weairy of it, that they may renew in them¬ 
selves &e Relish of a Country Life. By this means they are 



No, 15. Saturday, March 17, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 49 

happy in each other* beloved by their Children, adored by their 
Servants, and are become the Envy, or rather the Delight, of 
all that know them. 

How different to this is the Life of Fulvia! she considers her 
Husband as her Steward, and looks upon Discretion and good 
Housewifery as little domestick Virtues, unbecoming a Woman 
of Quality. She thinks Life lost in her own Family, and fancies 
her self out of the World when she is not in the Ring, the Play¬ 
house, or the Drawing-Room: She lives in a perpetual Motion 
of Body, and Restlessness of Thought, and is never easie in 
any one Place when she thinks there is more Company in 
another. The missing of an Opera the first Night, would be 
more afflicting to her than the Death of a Child. She pities 
all the valuable Part of her own Sex, and calls every Woman 
of a prudent modest retired Life, a poor-spirited unpolished 
Creature. What a Mortification would it be to Fulvia, if she 
knew that her setting her self to View is but exposing her self, 
and that she grows Contemptible by being Conspicuous. 

I cannot conclude my Paper, without observing that Virgil 
has very finely touched upon this Female Passion for Dress 
and Show, in the Character of Camilla ; who, though she seems 
to have shaken off all the other Weaknesses of her Sex, is still 
described as a Woman in this Particular, The Poet tells us, 
that after having made a great Slaughter of the Enemy, she 
unfortunately cast her Eye on a Trojan who wore an em¬ 
broidered Tunick, a beautiful Coat of Mail, with a Mantle of 
the finest Purple. A Golden Bow, says he, hung upon his 
Shoulder; his Garment was buckled with a Golden Clasp, and his 
Head was covered with an Helmet of the same shining Metal. 
The Amazon immediately singled out this w^ell-dressed Warrior, 
being seized with a Woman's Longing for the pretty Trappings 
that he was adorned with: 

. . . totumque incauta per agmen 

Femineo praedae spoliorum ardehat amore. 

This heedless Pursuit after these glittering Trifles, the Poet (by 
a nice concealed Moral) represents to have been the Destruc¬ 
tion of his Female Hero. C 


No. 16. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, March 19. 

Quid verum aique decens euro <&* rogo 6* omnis in hoc sum. —Hor. 

I HAVE received a Letter, desiring me to be very satyrical upon 
the little Muff that is now in Fashion; another informs me of a 



50 THE SPECTATOR No. i6. Monday, March 19, 1711 

Pair of silver Garters buckled below the Knee, that have been 
lately seen at the Rainbow Coffee-house in Fleeistreet\ a third 
sends me an heavy Complaint against fringed Gloves. To be 
brief, there is scarce an Ornament of either Sex which one or 
other of my Correspondents has not inveighed against with 
some Bitterness, and recommended to my Observation, I 
must therefore, once for all, inform my Readers, that it is not 
my Intention to sink the Dignity of this my Paper with Re¬ 
flections upon Red-heels or Top-knots, but rather to enter 
into the Passions of Mankind, and to correct those depraved 
Sentiments that give Birth to all those little Extravagances 
wliich appear in their outward Dress and Behaviour. F'oppish 
and fantastick Ornaments are only Indications of Vice, not 
criminal in themselves. Extinguish Vanity in the Mind, and 
you naturally retrench the little Superfluities of Garniture and 
Equipage. The Blossoms will fall of themselves, when the 
Root that nourishes them is destroyed. 

I shall therefore, as I have said, apply my Remedies to the 
first Seeds and Principles of an affected Dress, without descend¬ 
ing to the Dress it self; though at the same time I must own, 
that I have thoughts of creating an Officer under me, to be 
entituled. The Censor of small Wares, and of allotting him one 
Day in a Week for the Execution of such his Office. An Opera¬ 
tor of this Nature might act under me, with the same Regard 
as a Surgeon to a Physician; the one might be employed in 
healing those Blotches and Tumours which break out in the 
Body, while the other is sweetning the Blood and rectifying 
the Constitution. To speak truly, the young People of both 
Sexes are so wonderfully apt to shoot out into long Swords 01 
sweeping Trains, bushy Head-dresses or full-bottom'd Perri- 
wigs, with several other Incumbrances of Dress, that they stand 
in need of being pruned very frequently, lest they should be 
oppressed with Ornaments, and over-run with the Luxuriency 
of their Habits. I am much in doubt, whether I should give 
the Preference to a Quaker, that is trimmed close and almost cut 
to the Quick, or to a Beau that is loaden with such a Re¬ 
dundance of Excrescences, I must therefore desire my Cor¬ 
respondents to let me know how they approve my Ih-oject, and 
whether they think the erecting of such a petty Censorship may 
not turn to the Emolument of the Publick; for I would not do 
any thing of this Nature rashly and without Advice. 

There is another Set of Correspondents to whom I must 
address my self in the second.Place; I mean, such as fill their 
Letters with private Scandal, and black Accounts of particular 
Persons and Families. The World is so full of Ill-nature, that 
1 have Lampoons sent me by People who cannot spell, and 



No. i6. Monday, March 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 51 

Satyrs compos'd by those who scarce know how to-write. By 
the last Post in particular I received a Packet of Scandal 
which is not legible; and have a whole Bundle of Letters in 
Women's Hands that are full of Blots and Calumnies, inso¬ 
much that when I see the Name Caelia, Phillis, Pastora, or the 
like, at the Bottom of a Scrawl, I conclude on course that it 
brings me some Account of a fallen Virgin, a faithless Wife, or 
an amorous Widow. I must therefore inform these my Corre¬ 
spondents, that it is not my Design to be a Publisher of In- 
treagues and Cuckoldoms, or to bring little infamous Stories 
out of their present lurking Holes into broad Day-light. If I 
attack the Vicious, 1 shall only set upon them in a Body; and 
will not be provoked by the worst Usage I can receive from 
others, to make an Example of any particular Criminal. In 
short, I have so much of a Drawcansir in me, that I shall pass 
over a single Foe to charge whole Armies. It is not Lais or 
Silenus, but the Harlot and the Drunkard, whom I shall 
endeavour to expose; and shall consider the Crime as it appears 
in a Species, not as it is circumstanced in an Individual. I 
think it was Caligula who wi.shed the whole City of Rome had 
but one Neck, that he might behead them at a Blow. I shall 
do out of Humanity, what that Emperor would have done in 
the Cruelty of his Temper, and aim every Stroke at a collective 
Body of Offenders. At the same time I am very sensible, 
that nothing spreads a Paper like private Calumny and De¬ 
famation: but as my Speculations are not under this Necessity, 
they are not exposed to this Temptation. 

In the next Place I must apply my self to my Party-Corre¬ 
spondents, who are continually teazing me to take Notice of 
one another's Proceedings. How often am I asked by both 
Sides, if it is possible for me to be an unconcerned Spectator 
of the Rogueries that are committed by the Party which is 
opposite to him that writes the Letter. About two Days 
since I was reproached with an old Grecian Law, that forbids 
any Man to stand as a Neuter or a Looker-on in the Divisions 
of his Country. However, as I am very sensible my Paper 
would lose its whole Effect, should it run into the Outrages of 
a Party, I shall take care to keep clear of every thing which 
looks that Way. If I can any way asswage private Inflama- 
tions, or allay publick Ferments, I shall apply my self to it with 
my utmost Endeavours; but will never let my Heart reproach 
me, with having done any thing towards encreasing those 
Feuds and Animosities that extinguish Religion, deface <^vem- 
ment, and make a Nation miserable. 

What I have said under the three foregoing Heads, will, I am 
afraid, very much retrench the Number of my Correspondents:, 



5a THE SPECTATOR No. i6. Monday, March 19, 1711 

I shall therefore acquaint my Reader, that if he has started 
any Hint which he is not able to pursue; if he has met with 
any surprizing Story which he does not know how to tell, 
if he has discovered any Epidemical Vice which has escaped 
my Observation, or has heard of any uncommon Virtue which 
he would desire to publish; in short, if he has any Materials that 
can furnish out an innocent Diversion, I shall promise him my 
best Assistance in the working of them up for a publick 
Entertainment. 

This Paper my Reader will find was intended for an Answer 
to a Multitude of Correspondents; but I hope he will pardon 
me if I single out one of them in particular, who has made me 
so very humble a Request, that I cannot forbear complying 
with it. 

'To the Spectator. 

Sir, March 15, 17JJ 

I am at present so unfortunate, as to have nothing to do but 
to mind my own Business; and therefore beg of you that you 
will be pleased to put me into some small Post under you. I 
observe that you have appointed your Printer and Publisher 
to receive Letters and Advertisements for the City of London) 
and shall think my self very much honoured by you, if you 
will appoint me to take in I.xjtters and Advertisements for the 
City of Westminster and the Dutchy of Lancaster. Though I 
cannot promise to fill such an Employment with sufficient 
Abilities, I will endeavour to make up with Industry and 
Fidelity what I want in Parts and Genius. I am. 

Sir, 

Your most obedient Servant, 

C Charles Lillie.* 

No. 17. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, March ao. 

. , . Tetrum ante omnia vulttm. —Juv. 

Since our Persons are not of our own Making, when they are 
such as appear Defective or Uncomely, it is, methinks, an 
honest and laudable Fortitude to dare to be Ugly; at least to 
keep our selves from being abashed with a Consciousness of 
Imperfections which we cannpt help, and in which there is no 
Guilt. I would not defend an haggard Beau, for passing away 
much time at a Glass, and giving Softnesses and Languishing 
Graces to Deformity; All I intend is, that we ought to be con- 



No. 17. Tuesday, March 20, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 53 

tented with our Countenance and Shape, so far, as never to 
give our selves an uneasie Reflection on that Subject. It is to 
the ordinary People who are not accustomed to make very 
proper Remarks on any Occasion, matter of great Jest, if a 
Man enters with a prominent Pair of Shoulders into an As¬ 
sembly, or is distinguished by an Expansion of Mouth, or 
Obliquity of Aspect. It is happy for a Man, that has any of 
these Oddnesses about him, if he can be as merry upon him¬ 
self, as others are apt to be upon that Occasion: When he can 
possess himself with such a Chearfulness, Women and Children, 
who were at first frighted at him, will afterwards be as much 
pleased with him. As it is barbarous in others to railly him 
for natural Defects, it is extreamly agreeable when he can Jest 
upon himself for them. 

Madam Maintenon's first Husband was an Hero in this Kind, 
and has drawn many Pleasantries from the Irregularity of his 
Shape, which he describes eis very much resembling the Letter 
Z. He diverts himself likewise by representing to his Reader 
the Make of an Engine and Pully, with which he used to take 
off his Hat. When there happens to be anything ridiculous in 
a Visage, and the Owner of it thinks it an Aspect of Dignity, 
he must be of very great Quality to be exempt from Raillery: 
The best Expedient therefore is to be pleasant upon himself. 
Prince Harry and Falstaffe, in Shakespear, have carried the 
Ridicule upon Fat and Lean as far as it will go. Falstaffe is 
humourously called Woolsack, Bed-presser, and Hill of Flesh', 
Harry, a Starveling, an Elves-Skin, a Sheath, a Bow-case, and 
a Tuck. There is, in several Incidents of the Conversation 
between them, the Jest still kept up upon the Person. Great 
Tenderness and Sensibility in this Point is one of the greatest 
Weaknesses of Self-love. For my own part, I am a little un- 
happy in the Mold of my Face, which is not quite so long as it 
is broad: Whether this might not partly arise from my open¬ 
ing my Mouth much seldomer than other People, and by 
Consequence not so much lengthning the Fibres of my Visage, 
I am not at leisure to determine. However it be, I have been 
often out of Countenance by the Shortness of my Face, and was 
formerly at great Pains in concealing it by wearing a Periwig 
with an high Foretop, and letting my Beard grow. But now I 
have thoroughly got over this Delicacy, and could be contented 
it were much shorter, provided it might qualifie me for a Mem¬ 
ber of the Merry Club, which the following Letter gives me 
an Account of. I have received it from Oxford, and as it 
abounds with the Spirit of Mirth and good Humour which is 
natural to that Place, I shall set it down Word for Word as it 
came to me. 



54 THE SPECTATOR No. 17. Tuesday, March 20, 17x1 
'Most Profound Sir, 

Having been very well entertained, in the last of your 
Speculations that I have yet seen, by your Specimen upon 
Clubs, which I therefore hope you will continue, I shall take 
the Liberty to furnish you with a brief Account of such a one 
as perhaps you have not seen in all your Travels, unless it was 
your Fortune to touch upon some of the woody Parts of the 
African Continent, in your Voyage to or from Grand Cairo. 
There have arose in this University (long since you left us 
without saying any thing) several of these inferior Hebdomadal 
Societies, as the Punning Club, the Witty Club, and amongst the 
rest the Handsome Club ; as a Burlesque upon which, a certain 
merry Species, that seem to have come into the World in 
Masquerade, for some Years last past have associated them¬ 
selves together, and assumed the Name of the Ugly Club: This 
ill-favoured Fraternity consists of a President and twelve 
Fellows; the Choice of which is not confined by Patent to any 
particular Foundation (as St. John's Men would have the 
World believe, and have therefore erected a separate Society 
within themselves) but Liberty is left to elect from any School 
in Great Britain, provided the Candidates be within the Rules 
of the Club, as set forth in a Table, entituled, The Act of De¬ 
formity. A Clause or two of which I shall transmit to you. 

I. That no Person whatsoever shall be admitted without a 
visible Quearity in his Aspect, or peculiar Cast of Countenance; 
of which the President and Officers for the time being are to 
determine, and the President to have the casting Voice. 

II. That a singular Regard be had, upon Examination, to 
the Gibbosity of the Gentlemen that offer themselves, as 
Founder’s Kinsmen; or to the Obliquity of their Figtirb, in 
what sort soever. 

III. That if the Quantity of any Man’s Nase be eminently 
miscalculated, whether as to Length or Breadth, he shall have 
a just Pretence to be elected. 

Lastly, That if there shall be two or more Competitors for the 
same Vacancy, caeteris paribus, he that has the thickest Skin 
to have the Preference. 

Every fresh Member, upon his first night, is to entertain the 
Company with a Dish of Cod-fish, and a Speech in Praise of 
Aesop', whose Portraiture they have in full Proportion, or 
rather Disproportion, over the Chimney; and their Design is, 
as soon as their Funds are sufficient, to purchase the Heads of 
Thersites, Duns Scotus, Scarron, Hudibras, and the old Gentle¬ 
man in Oldham, with all the celebrated ill Faces of Antiquity, 
as Furniture for the Club Room. 

As they have always been professed Admirers of the other 



No. I'/. Tuesday, March 2,0, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 53 

Sex, so they unanimously declare that they will give all pos¬ 
sible Encouragement to such as will take the Benefit of the 
Statute, though none yet have appeared to do it. 

The worthy President, who is their most devoted Champion, 
has lately shewn me two Copies of Verses composed by a 
Gentlemen of this Society; the first, a Congratulatory Ode 
inscribed to Mrs. Touchwood, upon the loss of her two Fore¬ 
teeth; the other, a Panegyrick upon Mrs. Andiron's, left 
Shoulder. Mrs. Vizard (he says) since the Small Pox, is grown 
tolerably ugly, and a top Toast in the Club; but I never heard 
him so lavish of his fine things, as upon old Nell Trot, who 
constantly officiates at their Table; her he even adores, and 
extols as the very counterpart of Mother Shipton] in short, 
Nell (says he) is one of the Extraordinary Works of Nature; 
but as for Complexion, Shape, and Features, so valued by 
others, they are all meer Outside and Symmetry, which is his 
Aversion. Give me leave to add, that the President is a 
facetious pleasant Gentleman, and never more so, than when 
he has got (as he calls ’em) his dear Mummers about him; and 
he often protests it does him good to meet a Fellow with a right 
genuine Grimace in his Air (which is so agreeable in the 
generality of the French Nation); and, as an Instance of his 
Sincerity in this particular, he gave me a sight of a List in his 
Pocket-book of all of this Class, who for these five Years have 
fallen under his Observation, with himself at the Head of 'em, 
and in the Rear (as one of a promising and improving Aspect) 
Sir, 

Oxford Obliged and 

March 12, L710. Humble Seri>ant, 

Alexander Carbuncle. 


No. 18. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, March 21. 

. . . Equitis quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas 
Omnis ad incertos oculos (S* gaudia vana. —Hor. 

It is my Design in this Paper to deliver down to Posterity a 
faithful Account of the Italian Opera, and of the gradual 
Progress which it has made upon the English Stage: for there 
is no question but our great Grand-children will be very 
curious to know the Reason why their Forefathers used to sit 
together like an Audience of Foreigners in their own Country, 
i~-C 



5® THE SPECTATOR No. i8. Wednesday, March 21.1711 

and to hear whole Plays acted before them in a Tongue which 
they did not understand. 

Arsinoe was the first Opera that gave us a Taste of Italian 
Musick. The great Success this Opera met with, produced 
some Attempts of forming Pieces upon Italian Plans, which 
should give a more natural and reasonable Entertainment than 
what can be met with in the elaborate Trifles of that Nation. 
This alarmed the Poetasters and Fidlers of the Town, who were 
used to deal in a more ordinary kind of Ware; and therefore 
laid down an established Rule, which is received as such to 
this Day, That nothing is capable of being well set to Musick, 
that is not Nonsense. 

This Maxim was no sooner received, but we immediately 
fell to translating the Italian Operas; and as there was no 
great Danger of hurting the Sense of those extraordinary 
Pieces, our Authors would often make Words of their own which 
were entirely foreign to the Meaning of the Passages they pre¬ 
tended to translate; their chief Care being to make the Numbers 
of the English Verse answer to those of the Italian, that both 
of them might go to the same Tune. Thus the famous Song 
in Camilla, 

Barbara si Nintendo &c. 

Barbarous Woman, yes, I know your Meaning, 
which expresses the Resentments of an angry Lover, was 
translated into that English Lamentation, 

Frail are a Lover’s Hopes &c. 

And it was pleasant enough to see the most refined Persons 
of the British Nation dying away and languishing to Notes 
that were filled with a Spirit of Rage and Indignation. It 
happened also very frequently, where the Sense was rightly 
translated, the necessary Transposition of Words, which were 
drawn out of the Phrase of one Tongue into that of another, 
made the Musick appear very absurd in one Tongue that was 
very natural in the other. I remember an Italian Verse that 
ran thus Word for Word, 

And turn'd my Rage into Pity ; 
which the English for Rhime sake translated. 

And into Pity turn'd my Rage. 

By this means the soft Notes that were adapted to Pity in the 
Italian, fell upon the Word Rage in the English) and the angry 
Sounds that were tuned to Rage in the Original, were made to 
express Pity in the Translation. It oftentimes happened like¬ 
wise, that the finest Notes in the Air fell upon the most in¬ 
significant Words in the Sentence. I have known the Word 
And pursued through the whole Gamut, have been entertained 



No. i8. Wednesday, March 21, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 57 

with many a melodious The, and have heard the most beautiful 
Graces, Quavers, and Divisions bestowed upon Then, For, 
and From ; to the eternal Honour of our English Particles. 

The next Step to our Refinement was the introducing of 
Italian Actors into our Opera; who sung their Parts in their 
own Language, at the same time that our Countrymen per¬ 
formed theirs in our native Tongue. The King or Hero of 
the Play generally spoke in Italian, and his Slaves answered 
him in English'. The Lover frequently made his Court, and 
gained the Heart of his Princess, in a Language which she did 
not understand. One would have thought it very difficult to 
have carried on Dialogues after this manner, without an 
Interpreter between the Persons that convers'd together; but 
this was the State of the English Stage for about three Years. 

At length the Audience grew tired of understanding Half 
the Opera, and therefore to ease themselves intircly of the 
Fatigue of Thinking, have so ordered it at present, that the 
whole Opera is performed in an unknown Tongue. We no 
longer understand the Language of our own Stage; insomuch 
that I have often been afraid, when I have seen our Italian 
Performers chattering in the Vehemence of Action, that they 
have been calling us Names, and abusing us among themselves; 
but I hope, since we do put such an entire Confidence in them, 
they will not talk against us before our Faces, though they may 
do it with the same Safety as if it were behind our Backs. In 
the mean time, I cannot forbear thinking how naturally an 
Historian who writes two or three hundred Years hence, and 
does not know the Taste of his wise Forefathers, will make the 
following Reflection, In the Beginning of the Eighteenth Century 
the Italian Tongue was so well understood in England, that 
Operas were acted on the publick Stage in that Language. 

One scarce knows how to be serious in the Confutation of an 
Absurdity that shews it self at the first Sight. It does not 
want any great measure of Sense to see the Ridicule of this 
monstrous Practice; but what makes it the more astonishing, 
it is not the Taste of the Rabble, but of Persons of the greatest 
Politeness, which has established it. 

If the Italians have a Genius for Musick above the English, 
the English have a Genius for other Performances of a much 
higher Nature, and capable of giving the Mind a much nobler 
Entertainment. Would one think it was possible (at a Time 
when an Author lived that was able to write the Phaedra and 
Hippolitus) for a People to be so stupidly fond of the Italian 
Opera, as scarce to give a third Day's Hearing to that admir¬ 
able Tragedy? Musick is certainly a very agreeable Enter¬ 
tainment, but if it would take the entire Possession of oui^ 



58 THE SPECTATOR No. iS. Wednesday, March 21, lyii 

Ears, if it would make us incapable of hearing Sense, if it 
would exclude Arts tliat have a much greater Tendency to the 
Refinement of Human Nature; I must confess I would allow it 
no better Quarter than Plato has done, who banishes it out of 
his Common-wealth. 

At present, our Notions of Musick are so very uncertain, 
that we do not know what it is we like; only, in general, we are 
transported with any thing that is not English'. So it be of 
foreign Growth, let it be Italian, French, or High-Dutch, it is 
the same thing. In short, our English Musick is quite rooted 
out, and nothing yet planted in its stead. 

When a Royal Palace is burnt to the Ground, every Man is at 
liberty to present his Plan for a new one; and though it be but 
indifferently put together, it may furnish several Hints that 
may be of Use to a good Architect. I shall take the same 
Liberty in a following Paper, of giving my Opinion upon the 
Subject of Musick; which I shall lay down only in a prob¬ 
lematical Manner, to be considered by those who are Masters 
in the Art. C 


No. 19. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, March 22. 

Di bene fecerunt, inopis me quodque pusilli 

Finxerunt animi, raro perpauca loquentis .— Hor. 

Observing one Person behold another, who was an utter 
Stranger to him, with a Cast of his Eye, which, methought, 
expressed an Emotion of Heart very different from what could 
be raised by an Object so agreeable as the Gentleman he looked 
at, I began to consider, not without some secret Sorrow, the 
Condition of an Envious Man. Some have fancied that Envy 
has a certain Magical Force in it, and that the Eyes of the 
Envious have by their Fascination blasted the Enjoyments of 
the Happy. Sir Francis Bacon says, Some have been so curious 
as to remark the Times and Seasons when the Stroke of an 
envious Eye is most effectually pernicious, and have observed 
that it has been when the Person envied has been in any Cir¬ 
cumstance of Glory and Triumph. At such a time the Mind 
of the prosperous Man goes, as it were, abroad, among things 
without him, and is more exposed to the Malignity. But I shall 
not dwell upon Speculations so abstracted as this, or repeat 
the many excellent Things which one might collect out of 
Authors upon this miserable Affection; but keeping in the Road 
of common Life, consider the Envious Man with relation to 
these three Heads, His Pains, His Reliefs, and His Happiness. 



No. ig. Thursday, March 22, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 59 

The Envious Man is in Pain upon all Occasions which ought 
to give him Pleasure. The Relish of his Life is inverted; and 
the Objects which administer the highest Satisfaction to those 
who are exempt from this Passion, give the quickest Pangs to 
Persons who are subject to it. All the Perfections of their 
Fellow-Creatures are odious: Youth, Beauty, Valour and Wis¬ 
dom are Provocations of their Displeasure. What a Wretched 
and Apostate State is this! To be offended with Excellence, 
and to hate a Man because we approve him! The Condition 
of the Envious Man is the most emphatically miserable; he is 
not only incapable of rejoicing in another's Merit or Success, 
but lives in a World wherein all Mankind are in a Plot against 
his Quiet, by studying their own Happiness and Advantage. 
Will. Prosper is an honest Tale-bearer, he makes it his Business 
to join in Conversation with Envious Men. He points to such 
an handsom young Fellow, and whispers that he is secretly 
married to a great Fortune: When they doubt, he adds Circum¬ 
stances to prove it; and never fails to aggravate their Distress, 
by assuring ’em, that to his Knowledge he has an Uncle will 
leave him some Thousands. Will, has many Arts of this kind 
to torture this sort of Temper, and delights in it. When he 
finds them change Colour, and say faintly they wish such a 
Piece of News is true, he has the Malice to speak some good or 
other of every Man of their Acquaintance. 

The Reliefs of the Envious Man are those little Blemishes 
and Imperfections that discover themselves in an Illustrious 
Character. It is a matter of great Consolation to an Envious 
Person, when a Man of known Honour does a thing unworthy 
himself: Or when any Action which was well executed, upon 
better Information appears so altered in its Circumstances, that 
the Fame of it is divided among many, instead of being attri¬ 
buted to One. This is a secret Satisfaction to these Malig- 
nants; for the Person whom they before could not but admire, 
they fancy is nearer their own Condition as soon as his Merit is 
shared among others. I remember some Years ago there came 
out an excellent Poem without the Name of the Author. The 
little Wits, who were incapable of Writing it, began to pull in 
Pieces the supposed Writer. When that would not do, they 
took great Pains to suppress the Opinion that it was his. That 
again failed. The next Refuge was to say it was overlooked 
by one Man, and many Pages wholly written by another. An 
honest Fellow, who sate among a Cluster of them in debate 
on this Subject, cryed out. Gentlemen, if you are sure none of 
you your selves had an hand in it, you are but where you were, 
whoever writ it. But the most usual Succour to the Envious, 
in cases of nameless Merit in this kind, is to keep the Propertyf 



6o THE SPECTATOR No, ig. Thursday, March 22, 1711 

if possible, unfixed, and by that means to hinder the Reputa¬ 
tion of it from falling upon any particular Person. You see 
an Envious Man clear up his Countenance, if in the Relation 
of any Man's Great Happiness in one Point, you mention his 
Uneasiness in another. When he hears such a one is very 
rich he turns Pale, but recovers when you add that he has 
many Children. In a word, the only sure Way to an Envious 
Man’s Favour, is not to deserve it. 

But if we consider the Envious Man in Delight, it is like 
reading the Seat of a Giant in a Romance; the Magnificence of 
his House consists in the many Limbs of Men whom he has 
slain. If any who promised themselves Success in any Un¬ 
common Undertaking miscarry in the Attempt, or he that 
aimed at what would have been Useful and laudable, meets 
with Contempt and Derision, the Envious Man, under the 
Colour of hating Vain-glory, can smile with an inward Wanton¬ 
ness of Heart at the ill Effect it may have upon an honest 
Ambition for the future. 

Having thoroughly considered the Nature of this Passion, 
I have made it my Study how to avoid the Envy that may 
accrue to me from these my Speculations; and if I am not mis¬ 
taken in my self, 1 think I have a Genius to escape it. Upon 
hearing in a Coffee-house one of my Papers commended, I 
immediately apprehended the Envy that would spring from 
that Applause; and therefore gave a Description of my Face 
the next Day; being resolved, as I grow in Reputation for Wit, 
to resign my Pretensions to Beauty. This, I hope, may give 
some Ease to those unhappy Gentlemen, who do me the 
Honour to torment themselves upon the Account of this my 
Paper. As their Case is very deplorable, and deserves Com¬ 
passion, I shall sometimes be dull, in Pity to them, and will 
from time to time administer Consolations to them by further 
Discoveries of my Person. In the mean while, if any one says 
the Spectator has Wit, it may be some Relief to them, to think 
that he does not shew it in Company. And if any one praises 
his Morality, they may comfort themselves by considering that 
his Face is none of the longest. R 


No. 20. 

[STEELE.] Friday, March *3. 

. . . Ei/vd* 6 iJLfiar • • .—Horn. 

Among the other hardy Undertakings which I have proposed 
to myself, that of the Correction of Impudence is what 1 have 



No. 20. Friday, March 23, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 61 

very much at Heart. This in a particular Manner is my Pro¬ 
vince as Spectator; for it is generally an Offence committed 
by the Eyes, and that against such as the Offenders would 
perhaps never have an Opportunity of injuring any other Way. 
The following Letter is a Complaint of a young Lady, who sets 
forth a Trespass of this kind, with that Command of herself as 
befits Beauty and Innocence, and yet with so much Spirit as 
sufficiently expresses her Indignation. The whole Transaction 
is performed with the Eyes; and the Crime is no less than 
employing them in such a Manner, as to divert the Eyes of 
others from the best Use they can make of them, even looking 
up to Heaven. 

* Sir, 

There never was (I believe) an acceptable Man, but had 
some awkard Imitators. Ever since the Spectator appeared, 
have I remarked a kind of Men, whom I chiise to call Starers\ 
that without any regard to Time, Place, or Modesty, disturb 
large Company with their impertinent Eyes. Spectators make 
up a proper Assembly for a Puppet-Show or a Bear-Garden; 
but devout Supplicants and attentive Hearers are the Audi¬ 
ence one ought to expect in Churches. I am. Sir, Member of 
a small pious Congregation near one of the North Gates of this 
City; much the greater Part of us indeed are females, and used 
to behave ourselves in a regular attentive Manner, till very 
lately one whole Isle has been disturbed with one of these 
monstrous Starers; He's the Head taller than any one in the 
Church; but for the greater Advantage of exposing himself, 
stands upon a Hassock, and commands the whole Congregation, 
to the great Annoyance of the devoutest Part of the Auditory; 
for what with Blushing, Confusion, and Vexation, we can 
neither mind the Prayers nor Sermon. Your Animadversion 
upon this Insolence would be a great Favour to. 

Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

S. C.' 

I have frequently seen of this sort of Fellows; and do not 
think there can be a greater Aggravation of an Offence, than that 
it is committed where the Criminal is protected by the Sacred¬ 
ness of the Place which he violates. Many Reflections of this 
sort might be very justly made upon this kind of Behaviour, 
but a Starer is not usually a Person to be convinced by the 
Reason of the thing; and a Fellow that is capable of shewing 
an impudent Front before a whole Congregation, and can 
bear being a publick Spectacle, is not so easily rebuked as to 
amend by Adimonitions. If therefore my Correspondent does* 



62 THE SPECTATOR No. 20. Friday, March 2$, 1711 

not inform me, that within seven Days after this Date the 
Barbarian does not at least stand upon his own Legs only, 
without an Eminence, my friend Will. Prosper has promised to 
take an Hassock opposite to him, and stare against him in 
Defence of the Ladies. I have given him Directions, accord¬ 
ing to the most exact Rules of Opticks, to place himself in such 
a manner that he shall meet his Eyes where-ever he throws 
them: 1 have Hopes that when Will, confronts him, and all the 
Ladies, in whose Behalf he engages him, cast kind Looks and 
Wishes of Success at their Champion, he will have some Shame, 
and feel a little of the Pain he has so often put others to, of 
being out of Countenance, 

It has indeed been Time out of Mind generally remarked, 
and as often lamented, that this Family of Starers have in¬ 
fested Publick Assemblies: And I know no other Way to obvi¬ 
ate so great an Evil, except, in the Case of fixing their Eyes 
upon Women, some Male Friend will take the Part of such as 
are under the Oppression of Impudence, and encounter the 
Eyes of the Starers where-ever they meet them. While we 
suffer our Women to be thus impudently attacked, they have 
no Defence, but in the End to cast yielding Glances at the 
Starers: And in this Case, a Man who has no Sense of Shame 
has the same Advantage over his Mistress, as he who has no 
regard for his own Life has over his Adversary. While the 
Generality of the World are fettered by Rules, and move by 
proper and just Methods; he who has no Respect to any of 
them, carries away the Reward due to that Propriety of 
Behaviour, with no other Merit, but that of having neglected it. 

I take an impudent Fellow to be a sort of Outlaw in Good¬ 
breeding, and therefore what is said of him no Nation or Per¬ 
son can be concerned for. For this Reason, one may be free 
upon him. I have put myself to great Pains in considering 
this prevailing Quality which we call Impudence, and have 
taken notice that it exerts it self in a different Manner, accord¬ 
ing to the different Soils wherein such Subjects of these 
Dominions, as are Masters of it, were bom. Impudence in an 
English-man is sullen and insolent; in a Scotch-man it is un- 
tractable and rapacious; in an Irish-man absurd and fawning: 
As the Course of the World now runs, the impudent English¬ 
man behaves like a surly Landlord, the Scot like an ill-received 
Guest, and the Irish-man like a Stranger who knows he is not 
welcome. There is seldom any thing entertaining either in the 
Impudence of a South or North Briton; but that of an Irish¬ 
man is always Comick: A true and genuine Impudence is ever 
the Effect of Ignorance, without the least Sense of it: The best 
and most successful Starers now in this Town, are of that 



No. 20. Friday, March 23, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 63 

Nation; they have usually the Advantage of the Stature men¬ 
tioned in the above Letter of my Correspondent, and generally 
take their Stands in the Eye of Women of Fortune: Insomuch 
that I have known one of them, three Months after he came 
from Plough, with a tolerable good Air lead out a Woman from 
a Play, which one of our own Breed, after four Years at Oxford, 
and two at the Temple, would have been afraid to look at. 

I cannot tell how to account for it, but these People have 
usually the Preference to our own Fools, in the Opinion of the 
silUer Part of Womankind. Perhaps it is that an English 
Coxcomb is seldom so obsequious as an Irish one; and when the 
Design of pleasing is visible, an Absurdity in the Way toward it 
is easily forgiven. 

But those who are downright impudent, and go on without 
Reflection that they are such, are more to be tolerated, than a 
Set of Fellows among us who profess Impudence with an Air 
of Humour, and think to carry off the most inexcusable of all 
Faults in the World, with no other Apology than saying in a gay 
Tone, I put an impudent Face upon the Matter. No; no Man 
shall be allowed the Advantages of Impudence, who is con¬ 
scious that he is such: If he knows he is impudent, he may as 
well be otherwise; and it shall be expected that he blush, when 
he sees he makes another do it. For nothing can attone for 
the Want of Modesty; without which Beauty is ungraceful, and 
Wit detestable. 

No. 21. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, March 24. 

. . . Locus est S- pluribus umhris. —Hor. 

I AM sometimes veiy much troubled, when I reflect upon the 
three great Professions of Divinity, Law, and Physick; how 
they are each of them over-burdened with Practitioners, and 
filled with multitudes of Ingenious Gentlemen that starve 
one another. 

We may divide the Clergy into Generals, Field-Officers, and 
Subalterns. Among the first we may reckon Bishops, Deans 
and Arch-Deacons. Among the second are Doctors of Divinity, 
Prebendaries, and all that wear Scarfs. The rest are conmre- 
hended under the Subalterns. As for the first Class, our Con¬ 
stitution preserves it from any redundancy of Incumbents, 
notwithstanding Competitors are numberless. Upon a strict 
Calculation, it is found that there has been a great Exceeding 
of late Years in the second Division, several Brevets having 
been granted for the converting of Subalterns into Scarf'* 

I—♦€ 



64 THE SPECTATOR No. 21. Saturday, March 24, lyu 

Officers; insomuch that within my Memory the Price of 
Lutestring is raised above two Pence in a Yard. As for the 
Subalterns they are not to be numbred. Should our Clergy 
once enter into the corrupt Practice of the Laity, by the 
splitting of their Freeholds, they would be able to carry most 
of the Elections in England. 

The Body of the Law is no less incumbered with superfluous 
Members, that are like Virgil's Army, which he tells us was so 
crouded, many of them had not Room to use their Weapons. 
This prodigious Society of Men may be divided into the Liti¬ 
gious and Peaceable. Under the first are comprehended all 
those who are carried down in Coach-fulls to Westminster-Hall, 
every Morning in Term-time. Martial's Description of this 
Species of Lawyers is full of Humour: 

Tras verba locant. 

Men that hire out their Words and Anger; that are more or less 
passionate according as they are paid for it, and allow their 
Client a quantity of Wrath proportionable to the Fee which 
they receive from him. I must however observe to the Reader, 
that above three Parts of those whom I reckon among the 
Litigious, are such as are only quarrelsome in their Hearts, 
and have no Opportunity of shewing their Passion at the Bar. 
Nevertheless, as they do not know what Strifes may arise, 
they appear at the Hall every Day, that they may show them¬ 
selves in a Readiness to enter the Lists, whenever there shall be 
Occasion for them. 

The Peaceable Lawyers are, in the first place, many of the 
Benchers of the several Inns of Court, who seem to be the 
Dignitaries of the Law, and are endowed with those Qualifica¬ 
tions of Mind that accomplish a Man rather for a Ruler, than a 
Pleader. These Men live peaceably in their Habitations, 
Eating once a Day, and Dancing once a Year, for the Honour 
of their respective Societies. 

Another numberless Branch of Peaceable Lawyers, are those 
young Men who being placed at the Inns of Court in order to 
study the Laws of their Country, frequent the Play-house 
more than Westminster-Hall, and are seen in all pubhek As¬ 
semblies, except in a Court of Justice. I shall say nothing 
of those Silent and Busie Multitudes that are employed within 
Doors in the drawing up of Writings and Conveyances; nor of 
those greater Numbers that palliate their want of Business 
with a Pretence to such Chamber-practice. 

If, in the third place, we look into the Profession of Physick, 
we shall find a most formidable Body of Men: The Sight of them 
is enough to make a Man serious, for we may lay it down as a 



No. 21. Saturday, March 2^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 65 

Maxim, that when a Nation abounds in Physicians it grows 
thin of People. Sir William Temple is very much puzzled to 
find out a Reason why the Northern Hive, as he calls it, does 
not send out such prodigious Swarms, and over-run the World 
with Goths and Vandals, as it did formerly; but had that excel¬ 
lent Author observed that there were no Students in Physick 
among the Subjects of Thor and Woden, and that this Science 
very much flourishes in the North at present, he might have 
found a better Solution for this Difficulty, than any of those he 
has made use of. This Body of Men, in our own Country, 
may be described like the British Army in Caesar’s time: Some 
of them slay in Chariots, and some on Foot. If the Infantry 
do less Execution than the Charioteers, it is because they can¬ 
not be carried so soon into all Quarters of the Town, and dis¬ 
patch so much Business in so short a Time. Besides this Body 
of Regular Troops, there are Stragglers, who without being 
duly listed and enrolled, do infinite Mischief to those who are 
so unlucky as to fall into their Hands. 

There are, besides the above-mentioned, innumerable Re¬ 
tainers to Physick, who, for want of other Patients, amuse 
themselves with the stifling of Cats in an Air Pump, cutting 
up Dogs alive, or impaling of Insects upon the Point of a 
Needle for Microscopical Observations; besides those that are 
employed in the gathering of Weeds, and the Chacc of Butter¬ 
flies: Not to mention the Cockleshell-Merchants and Spider- 
catchers. 

When I consider how each of these Professions are crouded 
with Multitudes that seek their Livelihood in them, and how 
many Men of Merit there are in each of them, who may be rather 
said to be of the Science, than the Profession; I very much 
wonder at the humour of Parents, who will not rather chuse to 
place their Sons in a way of Life where an honest Industry 
cannot but thrive, than in Stations where the greatest Probity, 
Learning, and Good Sense may miscarry. How many Men 
are Country-Curates, that might have made themselves Aider- 
men of London, by a right Improvement of a smaller Sum of 
Mony than what is usually laid out upon a learned Education ? 
A sober, frugal Person, of slender Parts and a slow Apprehen¬ 
sion, might have thrived in Trade, though he starves upon 
Physick; as a Man would be well enough pleased to buy Silks 
of one, whom he would not venture to feel his Pulse. Vagellius 
is careful, studious and obliging, but withal a little thick- 
skuird; he has not a single Client, but might have had abund¬ 
ance of Customers. The Misfortune is, that Parents take a 
liking to a particular Profession, and therefore desire their 
Sons may be of it. Whereas, in so great an Afiair of Life* 



66 THE SPECTATOR No. 21. Saturday, March 24, 1711 

they should consider the Genius and Abilities of their Children, 
more than their own Inclinations. 

It is the great Advantage of a trading Nation, that there are 
very few in it so dull and heavy, who may not be placed in 
Stations of Life which may give them an Opportunity of 
making their Fortunes. A well-regulated Commerce is not, 
like Law, Physick, or Divinity, to be over-stocked with Hands; 
but, on the contrary, flourishes by Multitudes, and gives 
Employment to all its Professors. Fleets of Merchantmen are 
so many Squadrons of floating Shops, that vend our Wares 
and Manufactures in all the Markets of the World, and find out 
Chapmen under both the Tropicks. C 


No. 22. 

[STEELE.] Monday, March 26. 

. . . QuodcunquB ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. —Hot. 

The Word Spectator being most usually understood as one 
of the Audience at publick Representations in our Theatres, 
I seldom fail of many Letters relating to Plays and Operas. 
But indeed there are such monstrous things done in both, 
that if one had not been an Eye-witness of them, one could not 
believe that such Matters had really been exhibited. There 
is very little which concerns Human Life, or is a Picture of 
Nature that is regarded by the greater Part of the Company. 
The Understanding is dismissed from our Entertainments. 
Our Mirth is the laughter of Fools, and our Admiration the 
Wonder of Idiots; else such improbable, monstrous, and in¬ 
coherent Dreams could not go off as they do, not only without 
the utmost Scorn and Contempt, but even with the loudest 
Applause and Approbation. But the Letters of my Correspon¬ 
dents will represent this Affair in a more lively manner than 
any Discourse of my own; I shall therefore give them to my 
Reader with only this Preparation, that they all come from 
Players, and that the Business of Playing is now so managed, 
that you are not to be surprised when I say one or two of 
them are rational, others sensitive and vegetative Actors, and 
others wholly inanimate. I shall not place these as I have 
named them, but as they have Precedence in the Opinion of 
their Audiences. 

‘Aff. Spectator, 

Your having been so humble as to take notice of the Epistles 
of other Animals, emboldens me, who am the wild Boar that 
was killed by Mrs. Tojis, to represent to you. That I think I was 



No. 22. Monday, March 26, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 67 

hardly used in not having the Part of the Lion in Hydaspes 
given to me. It would have been but a natural Step for me to 
have personated that noble Creature, after having behaved my 
self to Satisfaction in the Part above-mentioned: But that of a 
Lion is too great a Character for one that never trod the Stage 
before but upon two Legs. As for the little Resistance which 
I made, I hope it may be excused, when it is considered that 
the Dart was thrown at me by so fair an Hand. I must confess 
I had but just put on my Brutality; and Camilla’s Charms were 
such, that beholding her erect Mien, hearing her charming 
Voice, and astonished with her graceful Motion, I could not 
keep up to my assumed Fierceness, but died like a Man. 

I am. Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

Thomas Prone.' 

* Mr. Spectator, 

This is to let you understand, that the Play-house is a 
Representation of the World in nothing so much as in this 
Particular, that no one rises in it according to his Merit. I 
have acted several Parts of Houshold-stuii with great Ap¬ 
plause for many Years: I am one of the Men in the Hangings 
in the Emperor of the Moon; I have twice performed the third 
Chair in an English Opera; and have rehearsed the Pump in the 
Fortune Hunters. I am now grown old, and hope you will 
recommend me so effectually, as that I may say something 
before I go off the Stage: In which you will do a great Act of 
Charity to 

Your most humble Servant, 

William Serene.' 

*Mr. Spectator, 

Understanding that Mr. Serene has writ to you, and desired 
to be raised from dumb and still Parts; I desire, if you give him 
Motion or Speech, that you would advance me in my Way, 
and let me keep on in what I humbly presume I am a Master, 
to wit, in representing human and still Life together. I have 
several times acted one of the finest Flower-pots in the same 
Opera wherein Mr. Serene is a Chair; therefore upon his Pro¬ 
motion, request that I may succeed him in the Hangings, with 
my Hand in the Orange-Trees. 

Your humble Servant, 

Ralph Simple.' 

* Sir, Drury-Lane, March 24, 17^0 

I saw your Friend the Templer this Evening in the Pit, and 
thought he looked very little pleased with the Representatioif 



68 THE SPECTATOR No. 22. Monday, March 26, 1711 

of the mad Scene of the Pilgrim. I wish, Sir, you would do us 
the Favour to animadvert frequently upon the false Taste the 
Town is in, with Relation to Plays as well as Operas. It cer¬ 
tainly requires a Degree of Understanding to play justly; but 
such is our Condition, that we are to suspend our Reason to 
perform our Parts. As to Scenes of Madness, you know. Sir, 
there are noble Instances of this Kind in Shakespear] but then 
it is the Disturbance of a noble Mind, from generous and human 
Resentments: It is like that Grief which we have for the De¬ 
cease of our Friends: It is no Diminution, but a Recommenda¬ 
tion of human Nature, that in such Incidents Passion gets the 
better of Reason; and all we can think to comfort our selves, is 
impotent against half what we feel. I will not mention that we 
had an Idiot in the Scene, and all the Sense it is represented to 
have, is that of Lust. As for my self, who have long taken 
Pains in personating the Passions, I have to Night acted only 
an Appetite: The Part I play is Thirst, but it is represented 
as written rather by a Dray-man than a Poet. I come in 
with a Tub about me, that Tub hung with Quart-pots, with a 
full Gallon at my Mouth. I am ashamed to tell you that I 
pleased very much, and this was introduced as a Madness; 
but sure it was not human Madness, for a Mule or an Ass may 
have been as dry as ever I was in my Life. 

/ am, Sir, 

Your most obedient 

and humble Servant.* 

From the Savoy in the Strand. 

*Mr. Spectator, 

If you can read it with dry Eyes, I give you this Trouble to 
acquaint you, that I am the unfortunate King Latinus, and 
believe I am the first Prince that dated from this Palace since 
John of Gaunt. Such is the Uncertainty of all human Great¬ 
ness, that I who lately never moved without a Guard, am now 
pressed as a common Soldier, and am to sail with the first fair 
Wind against my Brother Lewis of France, It is a very hard 
thing to put off a Character which one has appeared in with 
Applause: This I experienced since the loss of my Diadem; for 
upon quarrelling with another Recruit, I spoke my Indignation 
out of my Part in recitativo ; 

. . . Most audacious Slave, 

Day*St thou an angry Monarch's Fury brave? 

The Words were no sooner out of my Mouth, when a Serjeant 
knock'd me down, and asked me if I had a Mind to mutiny, in 
talking things no body understood. You see, Sir, my unhappy 



bio, 22. Monday, March 2t, ijii THE SPECTATOR 69 

Circumstances; and if by your Mediation you can procure a 
Subsidy for a Prince (who never failed to make all that beheld 
him merry at his Appearance) you will merit the Thanks of 

Your Friend, 

The King of Laiium' 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

For the Good of the Publick. 

Within two Doors of the Masquerade, lives an eminent Italian 
Chirurgeon, arrived from the Carnaval at Venice, of great Ex¬ 
perience in private Cures. Accommodations are provided, and 
Persons admitted in their Masquing Habits. 

He has cured since his coming thither, in less than a Fort¬ 
night, Four Scaramouches, a Mountebank Doctor, Two Turkish 
Bassas, three Nuns, and a Morris Dancer. 

Venienti occurritc Morbo. 

N.B. Any Person may agree by the Great, and be kept in 
Repair by the Year. The Doctor draws Teeth without pulling off 
your Mask. R 


No. 23. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, March 27. 

Saevit atrox Vohcens, nee teli conspicit usquam 

Auctorem, nec quo S9 ardens tmmittere possit. —Virg. 

There is nothing that more betrays a base ungenerous Spirit 
than the giving of secret Stabs to a Man’s Reputation. Lam¬ 
poons and Satyrs, that are written with Wit and Spirit, are like 
poisoned Darts, which not only inflict a Wound, but make it 
mcurable. For this Reason I am very much troubled when I 
see the Talents of Humour and Ridicule in the Possession of an 
ill-natured Man. There cannot be a greater Gratification to 
a barbarous and inhuman Wit, than to stir up Sorrow in the 
Heart of a private Person, to raise Uneasiness among near 
Relations, and to expose whole Families to Derision, at the 
same time that he remains unseen and undiscovered. If, 
besides the Accomplishments of being witty and ill-natured, a 
Man is vicious into the bargain, he is one of the most mis¬ 
chievous Creatures that can enter into a Civil Society. His 
Satyr will then chiefly fall upon those who ought to be the most 
exempt from it. Virtue, Merit, and every thing that is Praise¬ 
worthy, will be made the Subject of Ridicule and Buffoonry. 



70 THE SPECTATOR No. 2^. Tuesday, March 27, 1711 

It is impossible to enumerate the Evils which arise from these 
Arrows that fly in the dark, and I know no other Excuse that 
is or can be made for them, than that the Wounds they give 
are only imaginary, and produce nothing more than a secret 
Shame or Sorrow in the Mind of the suffering Person. It must 
indeed be confess’d, that a Lampoon or Satyr do not carry in 
them Robbery or Murder; but at the same time, how many are 
there that would not rather lose a considerable Sum of Mony, 
or even Life it self, than be set up as a Mark of Infamy and 
Derision? And in this Case a Man should consider, that an 
Injury is not to be measured by the Notions of him that gives, 
but of him that receives it. 

Those who can put the best Countenance upon the Outrages 
of this nature which are offered them, are not without their 
secret Anguish. I have often observed a Passage in Socrates’s 
Behaviour at his Death, in a Light wherein none of the Criticks 
have considered it. That excellent Man, entertaining his 
Friends, a little before he drank the Bowl of Poison, with a 
Discourse on the Immortality of the Soul, at his entering upon 
it says, that he does not believe any the most Comick Genius 
can censure him for talking upon such a Subject at such a time. 
This Passage, I think, evidently glances upon Aristophanes, 
who writ a Comedy on purpose to ridicule the Discourses of 
that Divine Philosopher. It has been observed by many 
Writers, that Socrates was so little moved at this piece of 
Buffoonry, that he was several times present at its being acted 
upon the Stage, and never expressed the least Resentment of it. 
But with Submission, I think the Remark I have here made 
shews us that this unworthy Treatment made an Impression 
upon his Mind, though he had been too wise to discover it. 

When Julius Caesar was lampooned by Catullus, he invited 
him to a Supper, and treated him with such a generous Civility, 
that he made the Poet his Friend ever after. Cardinal 
Mazarine gave the same kind of Treatment to the Learned 
Quillet, who had reflected upon his Eminence in a famous 
Latin Poem. The Cardinal sent for him, and after some kind 
Expostulations upon what he had written, assured him of his 
Esteem, and dismissed him with a Promise of the next good 
Abby that should fall, which he accordingly conferred upon 
him in a few Months after. This had so good an Effect upon 
the Author, that he dedicated the second Edition of his Book 
to the Cardinal, after having expunged the Passages which 
had given him offence. 

Sextus Quintusv/as not of so*generous and forgiving aTemper. 
Upon his being made Pope, the Statue of Pasquin was one 
Night dressed in a very dirty Shirt, with an Excuse written 



No. 2^. Tuesday, March 2T, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 71 

under it, that he was forced to wear foul Linnen because his 
Laundress was made a Princess. This was a Reflection upon 
the Pope’s Sister, who, before the Promotion of her Brother, 
was in those mean Circumstances that Pasquin represented her. 
As this Pasquinade made a great Noise in Rome, the Pope 
offered a considerable Sum of Mony to any Person that should 
discover the Author of it. The Author relying upon his 
Holiness’s Generosity, as also on some private Overtures which 
he had received from him, made the Discovery himself; upon 
which the Pope gave him the Reward he had promised, but at 
the same time, to disable the Satyrist for the future, ordered 
his Tongue to be cut out, and both his Hands to be chopped 
off. Aretine is too trite an Instance. Every one knows that 
all the Kings in Europe were his Tributaries. Nay, there is a 
Letter of his extant, in which he makes his Boasts that he had 
laid the Sophy of Persia under Contribution. 

Though in the various Examples which I have here drawn 
together, these several great Men behaved themselves very 
differently towards the Wits of the Age who had reproached 
them; they all of them plainly shewed that they were very 
sensible of their Reproaches, and consequently that they re¬ 
ceived them as very great Injuries. For my own part, I would 
never trust a Man that I thought was capable of giving these 
secret Wounds; and cannot but think that he would hurt the 
Person, whose Reputation he thus assaults, in his Body or in 
his Fortune, could he do it with the same Security. There 
is indeed something very barbarous and inhuman in the 
ordinary Scriblers of Lampoons. An innocent young Lady 
shall be exposed, for an unhappy Feature. A Father of a 
Family turned to Ridicule, for some domestick Calamity. 
A Wife be made uneasie all her Life, for a misinterpreted 
Word or Action. Nay, a good, a temperate, and a just 
Man, shall be put out of Countenance, by the Representa¬ 
tion of those Qualities that should do him Honour. So 
pernicious a thing is Wit, when it is not tempered with Virtue 
and Humanity. 

I have indeed heard of heedless inconsiderate Writers, that 
without any Malice have sacrificed the Reputation of their 
Friends and Acquaintance, to a certain Levity of Temper, and 
a silly Ambition of distinguishing themselves by a Spirit of 
Raillery and Satyr: As if it were not infinitely more honourable 
to be a good-natured Man, than a Wit. Where there is this 
little petulant Humour in an Author, he is often very mis¬ 
chievous without designing to be so. For which Reason I 
always lay it down as a Rule, that an indiscreet Man is more 
hurtful than an ill-natured one; for as the latter, will only^ 



72 THE SPECTATOR No. 23. Tuesday, March 27, 1711 

attack his Enemies, and those he wishes ill to, the other injures 
indifferently both Friends and Foes, I caimot forbear, on this 
Occasion, transcribing a Fable out of Sir Roger VEsirange, 
which accidentally lyes before me. 'A Company of waggish 
Boys were watching of Frogs at the side of a Pond, and still 
as any of 'em put up their Heads, they 'd be pelting them 
down again with Stones. Children (says one of the Frogs) 
you never consider that tho' this may be Play to you, 'tis Death 
to us.* 

As this Week is in a manner set apart and dedicated to 
Serious Thoughts, I shall indulge my self in such Speculations 
as may not be altogether unsuitable to the Season: and in the 
mean time, as the settling in our selves a Charitable Frame of 
Mind is a Work very proper for the Time, I have in this Paper 
endeavoured to expose that particular Breach of Charity which 
has been generally overlooked by Divines, because they are 
but few who can be guilty of it. C 


No. 24. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, March 28. 

A ccurrit quidam, notus mihi nomine tantum, 

Arreptaque manu, Quid agis, dulcissime rerum? —Hor. 

There are in this Town a great Number of insignificant People 
who are by no Means fit for the better sort of Conversation, and 
yet have an impertinent Ambition of appearing with those to 
whom they are not welcome. If you walk in the Park, one of 
them will certainly join with you, tho' you are in Company with 
Ladies; if you drink a Bottle, they will find your Haunts. 
What makes such Fellows the more burdensome, is, that they 
neither offend nor please so far as to be taken Notice of for 
either. It is, I presume, for this Reason that my Correspon¬ 
dents are willing by my Means to be rid of them. The two 
following Letters are writ by Persons who suffer by such Im¬ 
pertinence. A worthy old Batchelor, who sets in for his Dose 
of Claret every Night at such an Hour, is teized by a Swarm of 
them; who, because they are sure of Room and good Fire, 
have taken it in their Heads to keep a sort of Club in his 
Company; tho’ the sober Gentleman himself is an utter Enemy 
to such Meetings. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

'The Aversion I for some Years have had to Clubs in general 
gave me ^ perfect Relish for your Si>eculation on that Subject 



No. 24- Wednesday, March 2S, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 73 

but I have since been extreamly mortified, by the malicious 
World's ranking me amongst the Supporters of such impertinent 
Assemblies. I beg leave to state my Case fairly; and that done, 
I shall expect Redress from your judicious Pen. 

I am, Sir, a Batchelor of some standing, and a Traveller; my 
Business, to consult my own Humour, which I gratifie without 
controlling other People's; I have a Room and a whole Bed to 
my self; and I have a Dog, a Fiddle, and a Gun; they please me, 
and injure no Creature alive. My chief Meal is a Supper, which 
I always make at a Tavern. I am constant to an Hour, and 
not ill-humour'd; for which Reasons, tho' I invite no Body, I 
have no sooner supp'd, than I have a Crowd about me of that 
sort of good Company that know not whither else to go. It is 
true every Man pays his Share; yet as they are Intruders, I have 
an undoubted Right to be the only Speaker, or at least the 
loudest; which I maintain, and that to the great Emolument 
of my Audience. I sometimes tell them their own in pretty 
free Language; and sometimes divert them with merry Tales, 
according as I am in Humour. I am one of those who live in 
Taverns to a great Age, by a sort of regular Intemperance; I 
never go to Bed drunk, but always fluster'd; I wear away very 
gently; am apt to be peevish, but never angry. Mr. Specta¬ 
tor, If you have kept various Company, you know there is in 
every Tavern in Town some old Humourist or other, who is 
Master of the House as much as he that keeps it. The Drawers 
are all in Awe of him; and all the Customers who frequent his 
Company, yield him a sort of comical obedience. I do not 
know but I may be such a Fellow as this my self. But I appeal 
to you, whether this is to be called a Club, because so many 
Impertinents will break in upon me, and come without 
Appointment? Clinch of Barnet has a nightly Meeting, and 
shows .to every one that will come in and pay; but then he is 
the only Actor. Why should People miscall things? If his 
is allow'd to be a Consort, why mayn't mine be a Lecture? 
However, Sir, I submit to you, and am, 

Sir, 

Your most obedient, See. 

Tho. Kimbow.* 


* Good Sir, 

You and I were press’d against each other last Winter in a 
Crowd, in which uneasie Posture we suffered together for almost 
half an Hour. I thank you for all your Civilities ever since, in 
being of my Acquaintance wherever you meet me. But the 
other Day you pull'd off your Hat to me in the Park, when I • 



74 THE SPECTATOR No. 24. Wednesday, March 28,1711 

was walking with my Mistress: She did not like your Air, and 
said she wondered what strange Fellows I was acquainted with. 
Dear Sir, consider it as much as my Life is worth, if she should 
think we were intimate; therefore I earnestly intreat you for 
the future to take no manner of Notice of. 

Sir, 

Your obliged humble Servant, 

Will. Fashion.* 

A like Impertinence is also very troublesom to the superior 
and more intelligent Part of the fair Sex. It is, it seems, a great 
Inconvenience, that those of the meanest Capacities will pre¬ 
tend to make Visits, tho’ indeed they are qualified rather to 
add to the Furniture of the House (by filling an empty Chair) 
than to the Conversation they come into when they visit. 
A Friend of mine hopes for Redress in this Case, by the Publica¬ 
tion of her Letter in my Paper; which she thinks those she 
would be rid of will take to themselves. It seems to be 
written with an Eye to one of those pert giddy unthinking 
Girls, who upon the Recommendation only of an agreeable 
Person, and a fashionable Air, take themselves to be upon a 
Level with Women of the greatest Merit. 

'Madam, 

I take this Way to acquaint you with what common Rules 
and Forms would never permit me to tell you otherwise; to 
wit, that you and I, tho’ Equals in Quality and Fortune, are 
by no Means suitable Companions. You are, 'tis true, very 
pretty, can dance, and make a very good Figure in a publick 
Assembly; but alas. Madam, you must go no further; Distance 
and Silence are your best Recommendations; therefore let me 
beg of you never to make me any more Visits. You come in a 
literal Sense to see one, for you have nothing to say. I do not 
say this, that I would by any Means lose your Acquaintance; 
but I would keep it up with the strictest Forms of good Breed¬ 
ing. Let us pay Visits, but never see one another: If you will 
be so good as to deny your self always to me, I shall return the 
Obligation by giving the same Orders to my Servants. When 
Accident makes us meet at a third Place, we may mutually 
lament the Misfortune of never finding one another at home, go 
in the same Party to a Benefit-Play, and smile at each other, 
and put down Glasses as w^ pass in our Coaches. Thus we 
may enjoy as much of each other’s Friendship as we are 
capable: For there are some People who are to be known only 



No. Wednesday, March 2^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 75 

by Sight, with which sort of Friendship I hope you will always 
honour, 

Madam, 

Your most obedient humble Servant, 

Mary Tuesday. 

P. S. I subscribe my self by the Name of the Day I keep, 
that my supernumerary Friends may know who I am.' 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

To prevent all Mistakes that may happen among Gentlemen of 
the other End of the Town, who come hut once a Week to St. 
James’s Coffee-house, either by miscalling the Servants, or requir¬ 
ing such things from them as are not properly within their re¬ 
spective Provinces; this is to give Notice, that Kidney, Keeper of 
the Book-Debts of the outlying Customers, and Observer of those 
who go off without paying, having resign'd that Employment, is 
succeeded by John Sowton; to whose Place of Enterer of Messages 
and first Coffee-Grinder William Bird is promoted: and Samuel 
Burdock comes as Shoe-Cleaner in the Room of the said Bird. R 

No. 25. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, March 29. 

. . . Aegrescitque medendo. —Virg. 

The following Letter will explain it self, and nedds no Apology. 


I am one of that sickly Tribe who are commonly known by 
the name of Valetudinarians', and do confess to you, that I 
first contracted this ill Habit of Body, or rather of Mind, by 
the Study of Physick. I no sooner began to peruse Bool^ of 
this Nature, but I found my Pulse was irregular, and scarce 
ever read the Account of any Disease that I did not fancy my 
self afflicted with. Doctor Sydenham’s learned Treatise of 
Fevers threw me into a lingring Hectick, which hung upon me 
all the while I was reading that excellent Piece. I then 
applied my self to the Study of several Authors, who have 
written upon Phthisical Distempers, and by that means fell 
into a Consumption; till at length, growing very fat, I was in a 
manner shamed out of that Imagination. Not long after this 
I found in my self all the Symptoms of the Gout, except Pain; 
but was cured of it by a Treatise upon the Gravel, written by a 
very Ingenious Author, who (as it is usual for Physicians to 
convert one Distemper into another) eased me of the Gout by • 



76 THE SPECTATOR No. 25. Thursday, March 2^, 11 

giving me the Stone. I at length studied my self into a Com¬ 
plication of Distempers; but, accidentally taking into my Hand 
that Ingenious Discourse written by Sanctorius, I was resolved 
to direct my self by a Scheme of Rules, which I had collected 
from his Observations. The Learned World are very well 
acquainted with that Gentleman's Invention; who, for the 
better carrying on of his Experiments, contrived a certain 
Mathematical Chair, which was so Artificially hung upon 
Springs, that it would weigh any thing as well as a Pair of 
Scales. By this means he discovered how many Ounces of his 
Food pass'd by Perspiration, what quantity of it was turned 
into Nourishment, and how much went away by the other 
Channels and Distributions of Nature. 

Having provided my self with this Chair, I used to Study, 
Eat, Drink, and Sleep in it; insomuch that I may be said, for 
these three last Years, to have lived in a Pair of Scales. I 
compute my self, when I am in full Health, to be precisely 
Two hundred Weight, falling short of it about a Pound after 
a Day’s Fast, and exceeding it as much after a very full Meal; 
so that it is my continual Employment to trim the Ballance 
between these two Volatile Pounds in my Constitution. In my 
ordinary Meals I fetch my self up to Two hundred Weight and 
a half Pound; and if after having dined I find my self fall short 
of it, I drink just so much Small Beer, or eat such a quantity 
of Bread, as is sufiicient to make me weight. In my greatest 
Excesses 1 do not trangress more than the other half Pound; 
which, for my Health's sake, I do the first Monday in every 
Month. As soon as I find my self duly poised after Dinner, 
I walk till I have perspired five Ounces and four Scruples; 
and when I discover, by my Chair, that I am so far reduced, 
I fall to my Books, and study away three Ounces more. As for 
the remaining Parts of the Pound, I keep no accompt of them. 
I do not dine and sup by the Clock, but by my Chair; for when 
that informs me my Pound of Food is exhausted I conclude 
my self to be hungry, and lay in another with all Diligence. 
In my Days of Abstinence I lose a Pound and an half, and on 
solemn Fasts am two Pound lighter than on other Days in 
the Year. 

I allow my self, one Night with another, a Quarter of a 
Pound of Sleep within a few Grains more or less; and if upon 
my rising I find that I have not consumed my whole quantity, 
I take out the rest in my Chair. Upon an exact Calculation of 
what I expended and received the last Year, which I always 
register in a Book, 1 find the Medium to be Two hundred 
Wt^ight, so that I cannot discover that I am impaired one Ounce 
in my Health during a whole Twelve-month. And yet. Sir, 



No. 25- Thursday, March 2g, lyii THE SPECTATOR 77 

notwithstanding this my great Care to ballast my self equally 
every Day, and to keep my Body in its proper Poise, so it is 
that I find my self in a sick and languishing Condition. My 
Complexion is grown very sallow, my Pulse low, and my Body 
Hydropical. Let me therefore beg you, Sir, to consider me as 
your Patient, and to give me more certain Rules to walk by 
than those I have already observed, and you will very much 
oblige 

Your Humble Servant.' 

This Letter puts me in mind of an Italian Epitaph written 
on the Monument of a Valetudinarian) Siavo ben, ma per star 
meglio, sto qui: Which it is impossible to translate. The Fear 
of Death often proves Mortal, and sets People on Methods to 
save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them. This is a 
Reflection made by some Historians, upon observing that there 
are many more thousands killed in a Flight than in a Battel; 
and may be applied to those Multitudes of Imaginary Sick 
Persons that break their Constitutions by Physick, and throw 
themselves into the Arms of Death, by endeavouring to escape 
it. This Method is not only dangerous, but below the practice 
of a Reasonable Creature. To consult the Preservation of Life, 
as the only End of it, To make our Health our Business, To 
engage in no Action that is not part of a Regimen, or course of 
Physick; are Purposes so abject, so mean, so unworthy human 
Nature, that a generous Soul would rather die than submit to 
them. Besides, that a continual Anxiety for Life vitiates all 
the Relishes of it, and casts a Gloom over the whole Face of 
Nature; as it is impossible we should take Delight in any thing 
that we are every Moment afraid of losing. 

I do not mean, by what I have here said, that I think any 
one to blame for taking due Care of their Health. On the 
contrary, as Cheerfulness of Mind, and Capacity for Business, 
are in a great measure the Effects of a well-tempered Con¬ 
stitution, a Man cannot be at too much Pains to cultivate and 
preserve it. But this Care, which we are prompted to, not only 
by common Sense, but by Duty and Instinct, should never 
engage us in groundless Fears, melancholy Apprehensions, and 
imaginary Distempers, which are natural to every Man who is 
more anxious to live than how to live. In short, the Pre¬ 
servation of Life should be only a secondary Concern, and the 
Direction of it our Principal. If we have this Frame of Mind, 
we shall take the best Means to preserve Life, without being 
over-sollicitous about the Event; and shall arrive at that Point 
of Felicity which Martial has mentioned as the Perfection of 
Happiness, of neither fearing nor wishing for Death. 



78 THE SPECTATOR No. 25, Thursday, March 29, 1711 

In answer to the Gentleman, who tempers his Health by 
Ounces and by Scruples, and instead of complying with those 
natural Sollicitations of Hunger and Thirst, Drowsiness or Love 
of Exercise, governs himself by the Prescriptions of his Chair, 
I shall tell him a short Fable. Jupiter, says the Mythologist, 
to reward the Piety of a certain Countryman, promised to give 
him whatever he would ask. The Countryman desired that he 
might have the Management of the Weather in his own Estate: 
He obtained his Request, and immediately distributed Rain, 
Snow, and Sunshine among his several Fields, as he thought 
the nature of the Soil required. At the end of the Year, when 
he expected to see a more than ordinary Crop, his Harvest fell 
infinitely short of that of his Neighbours: Upon which (says 
the Fable) he desired Jupiter to take the Weather again 
into his own Hands, or that otherwise he should utterly ruin 
himself. C 


No. 26. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, March 30. 

Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas 
Regumque turres. O beats Sesti, 

Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam. 

Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque manes, 

Et domus exilis Plutonia . . .—Hor. 

When I am in a serious Humour, I very often walk by my self 
in Westminster Abby; where the Gloominess of the Place, and 
the Use to which it is applied, with the Solemnity of the Build¬ 
ing, and the Condition of the People who lye in it, are apt to 
fill the Mind with a kind of Melancholy, or rather Thoughtful¬ 
ness, that is not disagreeable. 1 Yesterday pass'd a whole 
Afternoon in the Church-yard, the Cloysters, and the Church, 
amusing my self with the Tomb-stones and Inscriptions that 
I met with in those several Regions of the Dead. Most of them 
recorded nothing else of the buried Person, but that he was 
bom upon one Day and died upon another: The whole History 
of his Life being comprehended in those two Circumstances, 
that are common to all Mankind. 1 could not but look upon 
these Registers of Existence, whether of Brass or Marble, as a 
kind of Satyr upon the departed Persons; who had left no other 
Memorial of them, but that they were bora and that they died. 
They put me in mind of severed Persons mentioned in the 
Battels of Heroic Poems, who have sounding Names given 
them, for no other Reason but that they may be l^ed, 



No. 26. Friday, March 30, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 79 

and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the 
Head. 

rXaC<c(Ji' re M^8o»rd rt Q€f>irl\ox6v re. —Horn. 

Glaucumque, Medontaque, Thersilochuntque. —Virg. 

The Life of these Men is finely described in Holy Writ by the 
Path of an Arrow, which is immediately closed up and lost. 

Upon going into the Church, I entertained my self with the 
digging of a Grave; and saw in every Shovel-full of it that was 
thrown up, the Fragment of a Bone or Skull intermixt with a 
kind of fresh mouldering Earth that some time or other had a 
place in the Composition of an human Body. Upon this, I 
began to consider with my self what innumerable Multitudes 
of People lay confused together under the Pavement of that 
ancient Cathedral; how Men and Women, Friends and Enemies, 
Priests and Soldiers, Monks and Prebendaries, were crumbled 
amongst one another, and blended together in the same com¬ 
mon Mass; how Beauty, Strength, and Youth, with Old-age, 
Weakness, and Deformity, lay undistinguished in the same 
promiscuous Heap of Matter. 

After having thus surveyed this great Magazine of Mortality, 
as it were, in the Lump, I examined it more particularly by the 
Accounts which I found on several of the Monuments which 
are raised in every Quarter of that ancient Fabrick. Some of 
them were covered with such extravagant Epitaphs, that, if it 
were possible for the dead Person to be acquainted with them, 
he would blush at the Praises which his Friends have bestowed 
upon him. There are others so excessively modest, that they 
deliver the Character of the Person departed in Greek or Hebrew, 
and by that means are not understood once in a Twelve-month. 
In the Poetical Quarter, I found there were Poets who had no 
Monuments, and Monuments which had no Poets. I observed 
indeed that the present War had filled the Church with many 
of these uninhabited Monuments, which had been erected to 
the Memory of Persons whose Bodies were perhaps buried in 
the Plains of Blenheim, or in the Bosom of the Ocean. 

I could not but be very much delighted with several modern 
Epitaphs, which are written with great Elegance of Expression 
and Justness of Thought, and therefore do Honour to the 
Living as well as to the Dead. As a Foreigner is very apt to 
conceive an Idea of the Ignorance or Politeness of a Nation 
from the Turn of their publick Monuments and Inscriptions, 
they should be submitted to the Perusal of Men of Learning and 
Genius before they are put in Execution. Sir Cloudesley 
Shovel’s Monument has very often given me great Ofience: 
Instead of the brave rough English Admiral, which was the 



8o THE SPECTATOR No. 26. Friday, March 30, 1711 

distinguishing Character of that plain gallant Man, he is repre* 
sented on his Tomb by the Figure of a Beau, dress’d in a long 
Perriwig, and reposing himself upon Velvet Cushions under a 
Canopy of State. The Inscription is answerable to the Monu¬ 
ment; for instead of celebrating the many remarkable Actions 
he had performed in the Service of his Country, it acquaints 
us only with the Manner of his Death, in which it was im¬ 
possible for him to reap any Honour. The Dutch, whom we are 
apt to despise for want of Genius, shew an infinitely greater 
Taste of Antiquity and Politeness in their Buildings and Works 
of this Nature, than what we meet with in those of our own 
Country. The Monuments of their Admirals, which have been 
erected at the publick Expence, represent them like themselves; 
and are adorned with rostral Crowns and naval Ornaments, 
with beautiful Festoons of Seaweed, Shells, and Coral. 

But to return to our Subject. I have left the Repository 
of our English Kings for the Contemplation of another Day, 
when I shall find my Mind disposed for so serious an Amuse¬ 
ment, I know that Entertainments of this nature are apt to 
raise dark and dismal Thoughts in timorous Minds, and gloomy 
Imaginations; but for my own part, though I am always serious, 
I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can therefore 
take a View of Nature in her deep and solemn Scenes, with the 
same Pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this 
means I can improve my self with those Objects, which others 
consider with Terror. When I look upon the Tombs of the 
Great, every Emotion of Envy dies in me; when I read the 
Epitaphs of the Beautiful, every inordinate Desire goes out; 
when I meet with the Grief df Parents upon a Tomb-stone, my 
Heart melts with Compassion; when I see the Tomb of the 
Parents themselves, I consider the Vanity of grieving for those 
whom we must quickly follow: When I see Kings lying by those 
who deposed them, when I consider rival Wits placed Side by 
Side, or the holy Men that divided the World with their Con¬ 
tests and Disputes, I reflect with Sorrow and Astonishment on 
the little Competitions, Factions, and Debates of Mankind. 
When I read the several Dates of the Tombs, of some that died 
Yesterday, and some six hundred Years ago, I consider that 
great Day when we shall all of us be Contemporaries, and make 
our Appearance together. C 



No. 27. Saturday, March 31. 1711 THE SPECTATOR 8i 
No. 27. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, March 31. 

Ut nox longa quibus mentitur arnica, diesque 
Longa videtur opus debentibus, ut piger annus 
Pupitiis quos dura premit custodia matrum ; 

Sic mihi tarda fluunt ingraiaque tempora, quae spem 
Consiliumque morantur agendi naviter, id quod 
Aeque pauperibus prodest, locupletibus aeque, 

Aeque neglectum pueris senibusque nocebit. —Hor. 

There is scarce a thinking Man in the World, who is involved 
in the Business of it, but lives under a secret Impatience of the 
Hurry and Fatigue he sufiers, and has formed a Resolution to 
fix himself, one time or other, in such a State as is suitable to 
the End of his Being. You hear Men every Day in Conversa¬ 
tion profess, that all the Honour, Power and Riches which they 
propose to themselves, cannot give Satisfaction enough to re¬ 
ward them for half the Anxiety they undergo in the Pursuit, or 
Possession of them. While Men are in this Temper (which 
happens very frequently) how inconsistent are they with them¬ 
selves ? They are wearied with the Toil they bear, but cannot 
find in their Hearts to relinquish it; Retirement is what they 
want, but they cannot betake themselves to it: While they pant 
after Shade and Covert, they wHl affect to appear in the most 
glittering Scenes of Life: Bht sure this is but just as reasonable 
as if a Man should call for more Lights, when he has a mind to 
go to Sleep. 

Since then it is certain that our own Hearts deceive us in the 
Love of the World, and that we cannot command our selves 
enough to resign it, though we every Day wish our selves dis¬ 
engaged from its Allurements; let us not stand upon a Formal 
taking of Leave, but wean our selves from them, while we are 
in the midst of them. 

It is certainly the general Intention of the greater Part of 
Mankind to accomplish this Work, and live according to their 
own Approbation, as soon as they possibly can; But since the 
Duration of Life is so uncertain, and that has been a common 
Topick of Discourse ever since there was such a thing as Life 
it self, how is it possible that we should defer a Moment the 
beginning to Live according to the Rules of Reason ? 

The Man of Business has ever some one Point to carry, and 
then he tells himself he '11 bid adieu to all the Vanity of Am¬ 
bition: The Man of Pleasure resolves to take his Leave at 
least, and part civilly with his Mistress: But the Ambitious 
Man is entangled every Moment in a fresh Pursuit, and the 
Lover sees new Charms in the Object be fancy'd he could , 



82 THE SPECTATOR No. 27. Saturday, March 31, 1711 

abandon. It is therefore a fantastical way of thinking, when 
we promise our selves an Alteration in our Conduct from change 
of Place, and difference of Circumstances; the same Passions 
will attend us where-ever we are, 'till they are Conquer’d; and 
we can never live to our Satisfaction in the deepest Retire¬ 
ment, unless we are capable of living so in some measure amidst 
the Noise and Business of the World. 

I have ever thought Men were better known, by what could 
be observed of them from a Perusal of their private Letters, 
than any other way. My Friend, the Clergyman, the other 
Day, upon serious Discourse with him concerning the Danger 
of Procrastination, gave me the following Letters from Persons 
with whom he lives in great Friendship and Intimacy, accord¬ 
ing to the good Breeding and good Sense of his Character. The 
first is from a Man of Business, who is his Convert: The second 
from one of whom he conceives good Hopes: The third from 
one who is in no State at all, but carried one way and another 
by starts. 

* Sir, 

I know not with what Words to express to you the Sense 
I have of the high Obligation you have laid upon me, in the 
Penance you enjoined me of doing some Good or other, to a 
Person of Worth, every Day I live. The Station I am in, 
furnishes me with daily Opportunities of this kind: And the 
Noble Principle with which you have inspired me, of Benevo¬ 
lence to all I have to deal with, quickens my Application in 
every thing I undertake. When I relieve Merit from Discoun¬ 
tenance, when I assist a friendless Person, when I produce 
concealed Worth, I am displeased with my self, for having de¬ 
signed to leave the World in order to be Virtuous. I am sorry 
you decline the Occasions which the Condition I am in might 
afford me of enlarging your Fortunes; but know I contribute 
more to your Satisfaction, when I acknowledge I am the better 
Man, from the Influence and Authority you have over, 

Sir, 

Your most Obliged and 

Most Humble Servant, 

R. O.' 

•Sir, 

I am intirely convinced of the Truth of what you were 
pleased to say to me, when I was last with you alone. You told 
me then of the silly way I was in; but you told me so, as I 
saw 5'’Ou loved me, otherwise I could not obey your Commands 
in letting you know my Thoughts so sincerely as I do at present. 



No,2y, Saturday, March ^1, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 83 

I know the Creature for whom I resign so much of my Character, 
is all that you said of her; but then theTrifler has something 
in her so undesigning and harmless, that her Guilt in one kind 
disappears by the Comparison* of her Innocence in another. 
Will you, Virtuous Men, allow no alteration of Offences ? Must 
Dear Chloe be called by the hard Name you pious People give 
to common Women ? I keep the solemn Promise I made you, 
in writing to you the State of my Mind, after your kind 
Admonition; and will endeavour to get the better of this 
Fondness, which makes me so much her humble Servant, 
that I am almost asham'd to Subscribe my self yours, 

T. d: 

* Sir, 

There is no State of Life so Anxious as that of a Man who 
does not live according to the Dictates of his own Reason. It 
will seem odd to you, when I assure you that my Love of 
Retirement first of all brought me to Court; but this will be 
no liiddle, when I acquaint you that I placed my self here with 
a Design of getting so much Mony as might enable me to 
Purchase a handsome Retreat in the Country. At present my 
Circumstances enable me, and my Duty prompts me, to pass 
away the remaining Part of my Life in such a Retirement as 
I at first proposed to my self; but to my great Misfortune I 
have intirely lost the Relish of it, and should now return to the 
Country with greater Reluctance than I at first came to Court. 
I am so unhappy, as to know that what I am fond of are 
Trifles, and that what I neglect is of the greatest Importance: 
In short, I find a Contest in my own Mind between Reason and 
Fashion. I remember you once told me, that I might live in the 
World and out of it, at the same time. Let me beg of you to 
explain this Paradox more at large to me, that I may conform 
my Life, if possible, both to my Duty and my Inclination. 
I am 

Your most humble Servant, 

R R. B.' 

No. 28. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, April 2. 

, . . Neque semper arcum 
Tendit Apollo. —Hor. 

I sh>aL 1. here present my Reader with a Letter from a Projector, 
concerning a new Office which he thinks may very much con¬ 
tribute to the Embellishment of the City, and to the driving 



84 THE SPECTATOR No. 28. Monday, April 2, 1711 

Barbarity out of our Streets. I consider it as a Satyr upon 
Projectors in general, and a lively Picture of the whole Art of 
Modern Criticism. 

‘ Sir, 

Observing that you have Thoughts of creating certain 
Officers under you, for the Inspection of several petty Enormi¬ 
ties which you your self cannot attend to; and finding daily 
Absurdities hung out upon the Sign-Posts of this City, to the 
great Scandal of Foreigners, as well as those of our own 
Country, who are curious Spectators of the same: I do humbly 
propose, that you would be pleased to make me your Super- 
intendant of all such Figures and Devices as are or shall be 
made use of on this Occasion; with full Powers to rectifie or 
expunge whatever I shall find irregular or defective. For want 
of such an Officer, there is nothing like sound Literature and 
good Sense to be met with in those Objects, that are every 
where thrusting themselves out to the Eye, and endeavouring 
to become visible. Our Streets are filled with blue Boars, black 
Swans, and red Lions; not to mention flying Pigs, and Hogs in 
Armour, with many other Creatures more extraordinary than 
any in the Desarts of Africk. Strange! that one who has all 
the Birds and Beasts in Nature to chuse out of, should live at 
the Sign of an Ens Rationis / 

My first Task therefore should be, like that of Hercules, to 
clear the City from Monsters. In the second Place I would 
forbid, that Creatures of jarring and incongruous Natures 
should be joined together in the same Sign; such as the Bell 
and the Neats-Tongue, the Dog and Gridiron. The Fox and 
Goose may be supposed to have met; but what has the Fox and 
the Seven Stars to do together ? And when did the Lamb and 
Dolphin ever meet, except upon a Sign-Post? As for the Cat 
and Fiddle, there is a Conceit in it; and therefore I do not 
intend that any thing I have here said should affect it. I must 
however observe to you upon this Subject, that it is usual for a 
young Tradesman, at his first setting up, to add to his own Sign 
that of the Master whom he serv'd; aa the Husband after 
Marriage, gives a Place to his Mistress's Arms in his own Coat. 
This I take to have given Rise to many of those Absurdities 
which are committed over our Heads; and, as I am informed, 
first occasioned the three Nuns and a Hare, which we see 
so frequently joined together. I would therefore establish 
certain Rules, for the determining how far one Tradesman may 
give the Sign of another, and in what Cases he may be allowed 
to quarter it with his own. 

In the third Place, I would enjoin every Shop to make use 



No. 28. Monday. April 28. 1711 THE SPECTATOR 85 

of a Sign which bears some Affinity to the Wares in which it 
deals. What can be more inconsistent, than to see a Bawd at 
the Sign of the Angel, or a Taylor at the Lion ? A Cook should 
not live at the Boot, nor a Shoemaker at the roasted Pig; and 
yet, for want of this Regulation, 1 have seen a Goat set up 
before the Door of a Perfumer, and the French King's Head at 
a Sword-Cutler's. 

An Ingenious Foreigner observes, that several of those 
Gentlemen who value themselves upon their Families, and over¬ 
look such as are bred to Trade, bear the Tools of their Fore¬ 
fathers in their Coats of Arms. I will not examine how true 
this is in Fact: But though it may not be necessary for Pos¬ 
terity thus to set up the Sign of their Forefathers; I think it 
highly proper for those who actually profess the Trade, to 
show some such Marks of it before their Doors. 

When the Name gives an Occasion for an ingenious Sign- 
Post, I would likewise advise the Owner to take that Oppor¬ 
tunity of letting the World know who he is. It would have 
been ridiculous for the Ingenious Mrs. Salmon to have lived at 
the Sign of the Trout; for which Reason she has erected before 
her House the Figure of the Fish that is her Name-sake. Mr. 
Bell has likewise distinguish'd himself by a Device of the same 
Nature: And here. Sir, I must beg Leave to observe to you, 
that this particular Figure of a Bell has given Occasion to 
several Pieces of Wit in this kind. A Man of your Reading 
must know that Abel Drugger gained great Applause by it in 
the Time of Ben. Johnson. Our Apocryphal Heathen God is 
also represented by this Figure; which, in Conjunction with the 
Dragon, makes a very handsome Picture in several of our 
Streets. As for the Bell-Savage, which is the Sign of a Savage 
Man standing by a Bell, I was formerly very much puzzled 
upon the Conceit of it, till I accidentally fell into the reading 
of an old Romance translated out of the French] which gives 
an Account of a very beautiful Woman who was found in a 
Wilderness, and is called in the French la belle Sauvage ; and is 
every where translated by our Country-men the Bell-Savage. 
This Piece of Philology will, I hope, convince you that I have 
made Sign-Posts my Study, and consequently qualified my self 
for the Employment which I sollicit at your Hands. But 
before I conclude my Letter, I must communicate to you an¬ 
other Remark which I have made upon the Subject with which 
I am now entertaining you, namely, that I can give a shrewd 
Guess at the Humour of the Inhabitant by the Sign that hangs 
before his Door. A surly cholerick Fellow generally makes 
Choice of a Bear; as Men of milder Dispositions frequently live 
at the Lamb. Seeing a Punch-Bowl painted upon a Sign near 



86 THE SPECTATOR No. 28. Monday, April 2, 1711 

Charing-Cross, and very curiously garnished, with a Couple of 
Angels hovering over it and squeezing a Lemmon into it, I 
had the Curiosity to ask after the Master of the House, and 
found upon Enquiry, as I had guessed by the little Agrdemens 
upon his Sign, that he was a Frenchman. I know. Sir, it is not 
requisite for me to enlarge upon these Hints to a Gentleman 
of your great Abilities; so humbly recommending my self to 
your Favour and Patronage, 

I remain, &c/ 

I shall add to the foregoing Letter, another which came to me 
by the same Penny-Post. 

* From my own Apartment near Charing-Cross. 

Honoured Sir, 

Having heard that this Nation is a great Encourager of In¬ 
genuity, I have brought with me a Rope-Dancer that was caught 
in one of the Woods belonging to the Great Mogul. He is by 
Birth a Monkey; but swings upon a Rope, takes a Pipe of 
Tobacco, and drinks a Glass of Ale, like any reasonable 
Creature. He gives great Satisfaction to the Quality; and if 
they will make a Subscription for him, I will send for a Brother 
of his out of Holland that is a very good Tumbler; and also 
for another of the same Family whom I design for my Merry- 
Andrew, as being an excellent Mimick, and the greatest Drole 
in the Country where he now is. I hope to have this Enter¬ 
tainment in a Readiness for the next Winter; and doubt not 
but it will please more than the Opera or Puppet-Show. I will 
not say that a Monkey is a better Man than some of the Opera 
Heroes; but certainly he is a better Representative of a Man, 
than the most artificial Composition of Wood and Wire. If 
you will be pleased to give me a good Word in your Paper, you 
shall be every Night a Spectator at my Show for nothing. 

C I am, &c.* 

No. 29. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, April 3. 

. . . Sermo lingua concinnus utraque 

Suavior, ut Chio nota si commixta Falerni est .—Hor. 

There is nothing that has more startled our English Audience, 
than the Italian Reciiativo at its first Entrance upon the Stage. 
People were wonderfully surprized to hear Generals singing 
the Word of Command, and Ladies delivering Messages in 
Musick. Our Countrymen could not forbear laughing when 
they heard a Lover chanting out a Billet-doux, and even the 



No. 29. Tuesday, April 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 87 

Superscription of a Letter set to a Tune. The Famous Blunder 
in an old Play of Enter a King and two Fidlers solus, was now 
no longer an Absurdity; when it was impossible for a Hero in 
a Desart, or a Princess in her Closet, to speak any thing un¬ 
accompanied with Musical Instruments. 

But however this Italian Method of acting in Recitativo might 
appear at first hearing, I cannot but think it much more just 
than that which prevailed in our English Opera before this 
Innovation: The Transition from an Air to Recitative Musick 
being more natural, than the passing from a Song to plain and 
ordinary Speaking, which was the common Method in Purcell's 
Operas. 

The only Fault I find in our present Practice, is the making 
use of the Italian Recitativo with English Words. 

To go to the Bottom of this Matter, I must observe, that the 
Tone, or (as the French call it) the Accent of every Nation in 
their ordinary Speech, is altogether different from that of 
every other People; as we may see even in the Welsh and 
Scotch, who border so near upon us. By the Tone or Accent, 
I do not mean the Pronunciation of each particular Word, but 
the Sound of the whole Sentence. Thus it is very common for 
an English Gentleman, when he hears a French Tragedy, to 
complain that the Actors all of them speak in a Tone; and 
therefore he very wisely prefers his own Country-men, not 
considering that a Foreigner complains of the same Tone in 
an English Actor. 

For this Rea.son, the Recitative Musick, in every Language, 
should be as different as the Tone or Accent of each Language; 
for otherwise, what may properly express a Passion in one 
Language, will not do it in another. Every one who has been 
long in Italy knows very well, that the Cadences in the Reciia- 
tivo bear a remote Affinity to the Tone of their Voices in ordinary 
Conversation; or, to speak more properly, are only the Accents 
of their Language made more Musical and Tuneful. 

Thus the Notes of Interrogation, or Admiration, in the 
Italian Musick (if one may so call them) which resemble their 
Accents in Discourse on such Occasions, are not unlike the 
ordinary Tones of an English Voice when we are angry; inso¬ 
much that I have often seen our Audiences extreamly mistaken 
as to what has been doing upon the Stage, and expecting to see 
the Hero knock down his Messenger, when he has been asking 
him a Question; or fancying that he quarrels with his Friend, 
when ho only bids him Good-morrow. 

For this Reason the Italian Artists cannot agree with our 
English Musicians, in admiring Purcell’s Compositions, and 
thinking his Tunes so wonderfully adapted to his Words; 



88 THE SPECTATOR No. 29. Tuesday, April 3, 1711 

because both Nations do not always express the same Passions 
by the same Sounds. 

I am therefore humbly of Opinion, that an English Composer 
should not follow the Italian Recitative too servilely, but make 
use of many gentle Deviations from it, in Compliance with his 
own Native Language. He may Copy out of it all the lulling 
Softness and Dying Falls (as Shakespear calls them), but should 
still remember that he ought to accommodate himself to an 
English Audience; and by humouring the Tone of our Voices in 
ordinary Conversation, have the same Regard to the Accent 
of his own Language, as those Persons had to theirs whom he 
professes to imitate. It is observed, that several of the singing 
Birds of our own Country learn to sweeten their Voices, and 
mellow the Harshness of their natural Notes, by practising 
under those that come from warmer Climates. In the same 
manner I would allow the Italian Opera to lend our English 
Musick as much as may grace and soften it, but never entirely 
to annihilate and destroy it. Let the Infusion be as strong as 
you please, but still let the Subject Matter of it be English. 

A Composer should fit his Musick to the Genius of the People, 
and consider that the Delicacy of Hearing, and Taste of Har¬ 
mony, has been formed upon those Sounds which every Country 
abounds with: In short, that Mu.sick is of a Relative Nature, 
and what is Harmony to one Ear, may be Dissonance to 
another. 

The same Observations which I have made upon the Recita¬ 
tive Part of Musick, may be applied to all our Songs and Airs 
in general. 

Signior Baptist Lully acted like a Man of Sense in this Par¬ 
ticular. He found the French Musick extreamly defective and 
very often barbarous: However, knowing the Genius of the 
People, the Humour of their Language, and the prejudiced 
Ears he had to deal with, he did not pretend to extirpate the 
French Musick and plant the Italian in its stead; but only to 
Cultivate and Civilize it with innumerable Graces and Modula¬ 
tions which he borrowed from the Italian. By this means the 
French Musick is now perfect in its kind; and when you say it 
is not so good as the Italian, you only mean that it does not 
please you so well, for there is scarce a Frenchman who would 
not wonder to hear you give the Italian such a Preference. 
The Musick of the French is indeed very properly adapted to 
their Pronunciation and Accent, as their whole Opera wonder¬ 
fully favours the Genius of such a gay airy People. The Chorus 
in which that Opera abounds, gives the Parterre frequent 
Opportunities of joining in Concert with the Stage. This 
Inclination of the Audience to sing along with the Actors, so 



No. 29. Tuesday, April 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 89 

prevails with them, that I have sometimes known the Per¬ 
former on the Stage do no more in a Celebrated Song, than the 
Clerk of a Parish Church, who serves only to raise the Psalm, 
and is afterwards drowned in the Musick of the Congregation. 
Every Actor that comes on the Stage is a Beau. The Queens 
and Heroines are so Painted, that they appear as Ruddy and 
Cherry-cheek’d as Milk-maids. The Shepherds are all Em¬ 
broidered, and acquit themselves in a Ball better than our 
English Dancing-Masters. I have seen a Couple of Rivers 
appear in red Stockings; and Alpheus, instead of having his 
Head covered with Sedge and Bull-Rushes, making Love in a 
fair full-bottomed Perriwig, and a Plume of Feathers, but with 
a Voice so full of Shakes and Quavers that I should have 
thought the Murmurs of a Country Brook the much more 
agreeable Musick, 

I remember the last Opera I saw in that merry Nation, was 
the Rape of Proserpine, where Pluto, to make the more tempt¬ 
ing Figure, puts himself in a French Equipage, and brings 
Ascalaphus along with him as his Valet de Chambre. This is 
what we call Folly and Impertinence; but what the French 
look upon as Gay and Polite. 

I shall add no more to what I have here offered, than that 
Musick, Architecture and Painting, as well as Poetry and 
Oratory, are to deduce their Laws and Rules from the general 
Sense and Taste of Mankind, and not from the Principles of 
those Arts themselves; or in other Words, the Taste is not to 
conform to the Art, but the Art to the Taste. Musick is not 
designed to please only Chromatick Ears, but all that are 
capable of distinguishing harsh from disagreeable Notes. A 
Man of an ordinary Ear is a Judge whether a Passion is ex¬ 
pressed in proper Sounds, and whether the Melody of those 
Sounds be more or less pleasing. C 


No. 30. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, April 4. 

St, Mimnerntus uti censet, sine amore jocisque 
Nil esi jucundum, vivas in amore jocisque. —Ilor. 

One common Calamity makes Men extreamly affect each other, 
though they differ in every other Particular. The Passion of 
Love is the most general Concern among Men; and I am glad 
to hear by my last Advices from Oxford, that there are a Set 
of Sighers in that University, who have erected themselves into 
a Society in Honour of that tender Passion. These Gentlemen 
are of that Sort of Inamoratos, who are not so very much lust* 



90 THE SPECTATOR No. 30. Wednesday. April 4. 1711 

to common Sense, but that they understand the Folly they are 
guilty of; and for that Reason separate themselves from all 
other Company, because they will enjoy the Pleasure of talking 
incoherently, without being ridiculous to any but each other. 
When a Man comes into the Club, he is not obliged to make any 
Introduction to his Discourse, but at once, as he is seating 
himself in his Chair, speaks in the Thread of his own Thoughts, 
‘ She gave me a very obliging Glance, She never looked so well 
in her Life as this Evening,' or the like Reflection, without 
Regard to any other Member of the Society; for in this Assem¬ 
bly they do not meet to talk to each other, but every Man 
claims the full Liberty of talking to himself. Instead of Snuff¬ 
boxes and Canes, which are usual Helps to Discourse with other 
young Fellows, these have each some Piece of Ribbon, a broken 
Fan, or an old Girdle, which they play with while they talk 
of the fair Person remembered by each respective Token. 
According to the Representation of the Matter from my 
letters, the Company appear like so many Players rehearsing 
behind the Scenes; one is sighing and lamenting his Destiny 
in beseeching Terms, another declaring he will break his Chain, 
and another in dumb-Show striving to express his Passion by 
his Gesture. It is very ordinary in the Assembly for one of a 
sudden to rise, and make a Discourse concerning his Passion in 
general, and describe the Temper of his Mind in such a manner, 
as that the whole Company shall join in the Description, and 
feel the Force of it. In this Case, if any Man has declared the 
Violence of his Flame in more pathetick Terms, he is made 
President for that Night, out of respect to his superior Passion. 

We had some Years ago in this Town a Set of People who 
met and dressed like Lovers, and were distinguished by the 
Name of the Fringe-Glove Club; but they were Persons of such 
moderate Intellects, even before they were impaired by their 
Passion, that their Irregularities could not furnish sufficient 
Variety of Folly to afford daily new Impertinences; by which 
Means that Institution dropped. These Fellows could express 
their Passion in nothing but their Dress; but the Oxonians 
are phantastical now they are Lovers, in proportion to their 
Learning and Understanding before they become such. The 
Thoughts of the ancient Poets on this agreeable Phrenzy, are 
translated in honour of some modern Beauty; and Chloris 
is won to Day, by the same Compliment that was made to 
Lesbia a thousand Years ago. But as far as I can learn, the 
Patron of the Club is the renowned Don Quixote. The Ad¬ 
ventures of that gentle Knight are frequently mentioned in the 
Society, under the Colour of laughing at the Passion and 
themselves: But at the same time, though they are sensible 



No. so. Wednesday, April 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 91 

of the Extravagancies of that unhappy Warrior, they do not 
observe, that to turn all the Reading of the best and wisest 
Writings into Rhapsodies of Love, is a Phrenzy no less divert¬ 
ing than that of the aforesaid accomplished Spaniard. A 
Gentleman who, I hope, will continue his Correspondence, is 
lately admitted into the Fraternity, and sent me the following 
Letter. 

'Sir, 

Since I find you take Notice of Clubs, I beg leave to give 
you an Account of one in Oxford, which you have no where 
mentioned, and perhaps never heard of. We distinguish our 
selves by the Title of the Amorous Club, are all Votaries of 
Cupid, and Admirers of the Fair Sex. The Reason that we 
are so little known in the World, is the Secresie which we are 
obliged to live under in the University. Our Constitution runs 
counter to that of the Place wherein we live: For in Love there 
are no Doctors, and we all possess so high Passion, that we 
admit of no Graduates in it. Our Presidentship is bestowed 
according to the Dignity of Passion; our Number is unlimited; 
and our Statutes are like those of the Druids, recorded in 
our own Breasts only, and explained by the Majority of the 
Company. A Mistress, and a Poem in her Praise, will intro¬ 
duce any Candidate: Without the latter no one can be admitted; 
for he that is not in Love enough to rhime, is unqualified 
for our Society. To speak disrespectfully of any Woman is 
Expulsion from our gentle Society. As we are at present all 
of us Gown-men, instead of duelling when we are Rivals, we 
drink together the Health of our Mistress. The Manner of 
doing this sometimes indeed creates Debates; on such Occa¬ 
sions we have Recourse to the Rules of Love among the 
Antients. 


Naevia sex cyathis, septem Justina bibatur. 

This Method of a Glass to every Letter of her Name, occasioned 
the other Night a Dispute of some Warmth. A young Student, 
who is in Love with Mrs. Elizabeth Dimple, was so unreasonable 
as to begin her Health under the Name of Elizabetha ; which so 
exasperated the Club, that by common Consent we retrenched 
it to Betty. We look upon a Man as no Company, that does 
not sigh five times in a Quarter of an Hour; and look upon a 
Member as very absurd, that is so much himself as to make a 
direct Answer to a Question. In fine, the whole Assembly is 
made up of absent Men, that is, of such Persons as have 
lost their Locality, and whose Minds and Bodies never keep 
Company with one another. As I am an unfortunate Member 



92 THE SPECTATOR No, 30. Wednesday, April 4, 1711 

of this distracted Society, you cannot expect a very regular 
Account of it; for which Reason, I hope you will pardon me 
that I so abruptly subscribe my self. 

Sir, 

Your most obedient, 

humble Servant, 

T. B. 

I forgot to tell you, that Albina, who has six Votaries in this 
Club, is one of your Readers/ R 


No. 31. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, April 5. 

Sit mihi fas audita loqui. —Virg. 

Last Night, upon my going into a Coffee-house not far from 
the Hay-Market Theatre, I diverted my self for above half an 
Hour with overhearing the Discourse of one, who, by the 
Shabbiness of his Dress, the Extravagance of his Conceptions, 
and the Hurry of his Speech, I discovered to be of that Species 
who are generally distinguished by the Title of Projectors. 
This Gentleman, for I found he was treated as such by his 
Audience, was entertaining a whole Table of Listners with the 
Project of an Opera, which he told us had not cost him above 
two or three Mornings in the Contrivance, and which he was 
ready to put in Execution, provided he might find his Account 
in it. He said, that he had observed the great Trouble and 
Inconvenience which Ladies were at, in travelling up and down 
to the several Shows that are exhibited in different Quarters 
of the Town. The dancing Monkies are in one Place; the 
Puppet Show in another; the Opera in a third; not to mention 
the Lions, that are almost a whole Day’s Journey from the 
politer Part of the Town. By this means People of Figure 
are forced to lose half the Winter after their coming to Town, 
before they have seen all the strange Sights about it. In order 
to remedy this great Inconvenience, our Projector drew out of 
his Pocket the Scheme of an Opera, Entitled, The Expedition of 
Alexander the Great’, in which he had disposed all the remark¬ 
able Shows about Town, among the Scenes and Decorations 
of his Piece. The Thought, he confest, was not originally his 
own, but that he had taken the Hint of it from several Per¬ 
formances which he had seen upon our Stage: In one of which 
there was a Rary-Show; in another, a Ladder-dance; and in 
others a Posture-Man, a moving Picture, with many Curiosities 
of the like Nature. 

This Expedition of Alexander opens with his consulting the 



No. 31. Thursday, April 5, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 93 

Oracle at Delphos, in which the dumb Conjurer, who has been 
visited by so many Persons of Quality of late Years, is to be 
introduced as telling him his Fortune; At the same time Clench 
of Barnet is represented in another Corner of the Temple, as 
ringing the Bells of Delphos, for joy of his Arrival. The Tent 
oi Darius is to be Peopled by the Ingenious Mrs. Salmon, where 
Alexander is to fall in Love with a Piece of Wax-work, that 
represents the beautiful Staiira. When Alexander comes into 
that Country, in which Quintus Curtius tells us the Dogs were 
so exceeding fierce that they would not loose their Hold, 
though they were cut to pieces Limb by Limb, and that they 
would hang upon their Prey by their Teeth when they had 
nothing but a Mouth left, there is to be a Scene of Hockley in 
the Hole, in which is to be represented all the Diversions of that 
Place, the Bull-baiting only excepted, which cannot possibly 
be exhibited in the Theatre, by reason of the Lowness of the 
Roof. The several Woods in Asia, which Alexander must be 
supposed to pass through, will give the Audience a Sight of 
Monkies dancing upon Ropes, with the many other Pleasantries 
of that ludicrous Species. At the same time, if there chance 
to be any Strange Animals in Town, whether Birds or Beasts, 
they may be either let loo.se among the Woods, or driven across 
the Stage by some of the Country People of Asia. In the last 
great Battel, Pinkethman is to personate King Porus upon an 
Elephant, and is to be encountered by Powell, representing 
Alexander the Great, upon a Dromedary, which nevertheless 
Mr, Powell is desired to call by the Name of Bucephalus. Upon 
the Close of this great decisive Battel, when the two Kings 
are thoroughly reconciled, to shew the mutual Friendship and 
good Correspondence that reigns between them, they both 
of them go together to a Puppet Show, in which the ingenious 
Mr. Powell, Junior, may have an Opportunity of displaying his 
whole Art of Machinery, for the Diversion of the two Monarchs. 
Some at the Table urged, that a Puppet Show was not a suit¬ 
able Entertainment for Alexander the Great; and that it might 
be introduced more properly, if we suppose the Conqueror 
touched upon that Part of India which is said to be inhabited 
by the Pigmies. But this Objection was looked upon as 
frivolous, and the Proposal immediately overruled. Our Pro¬ 
jector further added; that after the Reconciliation of these 
two Kings they might invite one another to Dinner, and either 
of them entertain his Guest with the German Artist, Mr. 
Pinkethman*^ Heathen Gods, or any of the like Diversions, 
which shall then chance to be in vogue. 

This Project was received with very great Applause by the 
whole Table. Upon which the Undertaker told us, that he * 



94 the spectator No. 31. Thursday, April 5. 1711 

had not yet communicated to us above half his Design; for 
that Alexander being a Greek, it was his Intention that the 
whole Opera should be acted in that Language, which was a 
Tongue he was sure would wonderfully please the Ladies, 
especially when it was a little raised and rounded by the 
lonick Dialect; and could not but be acceptable to the whole 
Audience, because there are fewer of them who understand 
Greek than Italian. The only Difficulty that remained, was, 
how to get Performers, unless we could persuade some Gentle¬ 
men of the Universities to learn to Sing, in order to qualifie 
themselves for the Stage; but this Objection soon vanished, 
when the Projector informed us that the Greeks were at present 
the only Musicians in the Turkish Empire, and that it would 
be very easie for our Factory at Smyrna to furnish us every 
Year with a Colony of Musicians, by the Opportunity of the 
Turkey Fleet; besides, says he, if we want any single Voice for 
any lower Part in the Opera, Lawrence can learn to speak 
Greek, as well as he does Italian, in a Fortnight’s time. 

The Projector having thus settled Matters, to the good 
liking of all that heard him, he left his Seat at the Table, and 
planted himself before the Fire, where I had unluckily taken 
my Stand for the Convenience of overhearing what he said. 
Whether he had observed me to be more attentive than 
ordinary, I cannot tell, but he had not stood by me above a 
quarter of a Minute, but he turned short upon me on a sudden, 
and catching me by a Button of my Coat, attacked me very 
abruptly after the following manner: Besides, Sir, I have heard 
of a very extraordinary Genius for Musick that lives in Switzer¬ 
land, who has so strong a Spring in his Fingers, that he can 
make the Board of an Organ sound like a Drum, and if I could 
but procure a Subscription of about Ten thousand Pound 
every Winter, I would undertake to fetch him over, and oblige 
him by Articles to set everything that should be sung upon the 
English Stage. After this he looked full in my Face, expecting 
I would make an Answer; when by good Luck, a Gentleman 
that had entered the Coffee-house since the Projector applied 
himself to me, hearing him talk of his Swiss Compositions, 
cry'd out with a kind of Laugh, Is our Musick then to receive 
farther Improvements from Switzerland} This alarmed the 
Projector, who immediately let go my Button, and turned about 
to answer him. I took the Opportunity of the Diversion, which 
seemed to be made in favour of me, and laying down my Penny 
upon the Bar, retired with some Precipitation. C 



THE SPECTATOR 95 


No. 32. Friday, April 6, 1711 
No. 32. 

[STEELE.l Friday, April 6. 

Nil illi larva aut tragicis opus esse cothurnis. —Hor. 

The late Discourse concerning the Statutes of the Ugly Club 
having been so well received at Oxford, that, contrary to the 
strict Rules of the Society, they have been so partial as to take 
my own Testimonial, and admit me into that select Body; I 
could not restrain the Vanity of publishing to the World the 
Honour which is done me. It is no small Satisfaction, that I 
have given Occasion for the President’s shewing both his 
Invention and Reading to such Advantage as my Correspon¬ 
dent reports he did: But it is not to be doubted there were 
many very proper Hums and Pauses in his Harangue, which 
lose their Ugliness in the Narration, and which my correspon¬ 
dent (begging his Pardon) has no very good Talent at repre¬ 
senting. I very much approve of the Contempt the Society 
has of Beauty: Nothing ought to be laudable in a Man, in which 
his Will is not concerned; therefore our Society can follow 
Nature, and where she has thought fit, as it were, to mock her 
self, we can do so too, and be merry upon the Occasion. 

‘Mr. Spectator, 

Your making publick the late Trouble I gave you, you will 
find to have been the Occasion of this: Who should I meet at 
the Coffee-house Door t'other Night, but my old Friend Mr. 
President ? I saw somewhat had pleased him; and as soon as 
he had cast his Eye upon me, “Oho, Doctor, rare News from 
London, (says he); the Spectator has made honourable Mention 
of the Club (Man) and published to the World his sincere 
Desire to be a Member, with a recommendatory Description 
of his Phiz: And though our Constitution has made no particu¬ 
lar Provision for short Faces, yet, his being an extraordinary 
Case, I believe we shall find an Hole for him to creep in at; 
for I assure you he is not against the Canon; and if his Sides are 
as compact as his Joles, he need not disguise himself to make one 
of us." I presently called for the Paper to see how you looked 
in Print; and after we had regaled our selves awhile upon the 
pleasant Image of our Proselite, Mr. President told me I should 
be his Stranger at the next Night’s Club: Where we were no 
sooner come, and Pipes brought, but Mr. President began an 
Harangue upon your Introduction to my Epistle, setting forth 
with no less Volubility of Speech than Strength of Reason, 
“That a Speculation of this Nature was what had been long 
and much wanted; and that he doubted not but it would be of 
inestimable Value to the Publick, in reconciling even of Bodies* 

I—*D 



96 THE SPECTATOR No. 32. Friday, April 6, 1711 

and Souls; in composing and quieting the Minds of Men under 
all corporal Redundancies, Deficiencies, and Irregularities 
whatsoever; and making every one sit down content in his own 
Carcass, though it were not perhaps so mathematically put 
together as he could wish." And again, "How that for want of 
a due Consideration of what you first advance, viz. that our 
Faces are not of our own chusing. People had been transported 
beyond all good Breeding, and hurried themselves into un¬ 
accountable and fatal Extravagances: As, how many impartial 
Looking-glasses had been censured and calumniated, nay, and 
sometimes shivered into ten thousand Splinters, only for a 
fair Representation of the Truth? how many Headstrings and 
Garters had been made accessary, and actually forfeited, only 
because Folks must needs quarrel with their own Shadows? 
And who (continues he) but is deeply sensible, that one great 
Source of the Uneasiness and Misery of human Life, especially 
amongst those of Distinction, arises from nothing in the world 
else, but too severe a Contemplation of an indefeasible Con¬ 
texture of our external Parts, or certain natural and invincible 
Dispositions to be fat or lean? When a little more of Mr, 
Spectator’s Philosophy would take off all this; and in the 
mean time let them observe, that there’s not one of their 
Grievances of this Sort, but perhaps, in some Ages of the 
World has been highly in vogue: and may be so again, nay, in 
some Country or other ten to one is so at this Day. My Lady 
Ample is the most miserable Woman in the World, purely of 
her own making: She even grudges her self Meat and Drink, 
for fear she should thrive by them; and is constantly crying out. 
In a Quarter of a Year more I shall be quite out of all manner 
of Shape 1 Now the Lady’s Misfortune seems to be only this, 
that she is planted in a wrong Soil; for, go but t’other Side of 
the Water, it’s a Jest at Harlem to talk of a Shape under 
eighteen Stone. These wise Traders regulate their Beauties 
as they do their Butter, by the Pound; and Miss Cross, when she 
first arrived in the Low-Countries, was not computed to be so 
handsom as Madam Van Brisket by near half a Tun. On the 
other hand, there’s ’Squire Lath, a proper Gentleman, of Fifteen 
hundred Pound per Annum, as well as of an unblameable Life 
and Conversation; yet would not I be the Esquire for half his 
Estate; for if it was as much more, he'd freely part with it all 
for a Pair of Legs to his Mind: Whereas in the Reign of our first 
King Edward of glorious Memory, nothing more modish than 
a Brace of your fine taper Supporters; and his Majesty, without 
an Inch of Calf, managed Affairs in Peace and War as laudably 
as the bravest and most politick of his Ancestors; and was as 
terrible to his Neighbours under the Royal Name of Long' 



No. 32. Friday, April 6, 1711 THE SPECTA TOR 97 

shanks, as Coeur de Lion to the Saracens before him. If we 
look farther back into History we shall find, that Alexander 
the Great wore his Head a little over the left Shoulder; and then 
not a Soul stirred out till he had adjusted his Neck Bone; 
the whole Nobility addressed the Prince and each other 
obliquely, and all Matters of Importance were concerted and 
carried on in the Macedonian Court with their Polls on one 
Side. For about the first Century nothing made more Noise 
in the World than Roman Noses, and then not a Word of them 
till they revived again in Eighty eight. Nor is it so very long 
since Richard the Third set up half the Backs of the Nation; 
and high Shoulders, as well as high Noses, were the Top of the 
Fashion. But to come to our selves. Gentlemen, tho' I find 
by my quinquennial Observations, that we shall never get 
Ladies enough to make a Party in our own Country, yet might 
we meet with better Success among some of our Allies. And 
what think you if our Board sate for a Dutch Piece ? Truly I 
am of Opinion, that as odd as we appear in Flesh and Blood, 
we should be no such strange things in Metzo-Tinto. But this 
Project may rest till our Number is compleat; and this being 
our Election Night, give me leave to propose Mr. Spectator: 
You see his Inclinations, and perhaps we may not have his 
Fellow." 

I found most of them (as is usual in all such Cases) were 
prepared; but one of the Seniors (whom by the by Mr. Presi¬ 
dent had taken all this Pains to bring over) sate still, and 
cocking his Chin, which seemed only to be levelled at his Nose, 
very gravely declared, "That in case he had had sufficient 
Knowledge of you, no Man should have been more willing to 
have served you; but that he, for his Part, had always had 
regard to his own Conscience, as well as other People's Merit; 
and he did not know that but you might be a handsome Fellow; 
for as for your own Certificate, it was every Body's Business 
to speak for themselves." Mr. President immediately retorted, 
"A handsome Fellow 1 why he is a Wit (Sir) and you know the 
Proverb;” and to ease the old Gentleman of his Scruples, 
cried, "That for Matter of Merit it was all one, you might wear 
a Mask.” This threw him into a Pause, and he looked desirous 
of three Days to consider on it; but Mr. President improved 
the Thought, and followed him up with an old Story, "That 
Wits were privileged to wear what Masks they pleased in all 
Ages; and that a Vizard had been the constant Crown of their 
Labours, which was generally presented them by the Hand of 
some Satyr, and sometimes of Apollo himself:” For the Truth 
of which he appealed to the Frontispiece of several Books, and 
particularly to the English Juvenal, to which he referred him; • 



98 THE SPECTATOR No. 32. Friday, April 6, 1711 

and only added; '*That such Authors were the Larvati, or 
Larva donati of the Antients/’ This cleared up all, and in 
the Conclusion you were chose Probationer; and Mr. I^esident 
put round your Health as such, protesting, “That though in¬ 
deed he talked of a Vizard, he did not believe all the while 
you had any more Occasion for it than the Cat-a-mountain; “ 
80 that all you have to do now is to pay your Fees, which here 
are very reasonable if you are not imposed upon; and you may 
stile your self Informis Societatis Socius: Which I am desired 
to acquaint you with; and upon the same I beg you to accept 
of the Congratulation of, 

Sir, 

Oxford, Your obliged humble. Servant, 

March 21. A. C/ 

R 


No. 33. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, April 7. 

Fervidus tecum puer & solutis 
Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae 
Et parum comis sine te Juventas 

Mercuriusque. —nor. ad Venerem. 

A Friend of mine has two Daughters, whom I will call Laetitia 
and Daphne’, The Former is one of the Greatest Beauties of the 
Age in which she lives, the Latter no way remarkable for any 
Charms in her Person. Upon this one Circumstance of their 
Outward Form, the Good and Ill of their Life seems to turn. 
Laetitia, has not from her very Childhood, heard any thing else 
but Commendations of her Features and Complexion; by which 
means she is no other than Nature made her, a very beautiful 
Outside. The Consciousness of her Charms has rendered her 
insupportably Vain and Insolent towards all who have to do 
with her. Daphne, who was almost Twenty before one civil 
thing had ever been said to her, found her self obliged to acquire 
some Accomplishments, to make up for the want of those 
Attractions which she saw in her Sister. Poor Daphne was 
seldom submitted to in a Debate wherein she was concerned; 
her Discourse had nothing to recommend it but the good 
Sense of it, and she was always under a necessity to have very 
well considered what she was to say before she uttered it; 
while Laetitia was listened to with Partiality, and Approbation 
sat in the Countenances of those she conversed with, before 
she communicated what she had to say. These Causes have 
produced suitable Effects, and Laetitia is as insipid a Companion, 
as Daphne is an agreeable one. Laetitia, confident of Favour, 



No. 33. Saturday, April 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 99 

has studied no Arts to please; Daphne, despairing of any In¬ 
clination towards her Person, has depended only on her Merit. 
Laetitia has always something in her Air that is sullen, grave, 
and disconsolate. Daphne has a Countenance that appears 
chearful, open, and unconcerned. A Young Gentleman saw 
Laetitia this Winter at a Play, and became her Captive. His 
Fortune was such, that he wanted very little Introduction to 
speak his Sentiments to her Father. The Lover was admitted 
with the utmost Freedom into the Family, where a constrained 
Behaviour, severe Looks, and distant Civilities, wore the 
highest Favours he could obtain of Laetitia) while Daphne 
used him with the good Humour, Familiarity, and Innocence 
of a Sister: Insomuch, that he would often say to her, Dear 

Daphne, wert thou but as Handsome as Laetitia!-She received 

such Language with that ingenuous and pleasing Mirth, which 
is natural to a Woman without Design. He still sighed in vain 
for Laetitia, but found certain Relief in the agreeable Conversa¬ 
tion of Daphne. At length, heartily tired with the haughty 
Impertinence of Laetitia, and charmed with repeated Instances 
of good Humour he had observed in Daphne, he one Day told 
the latter, that he had something to say to her he hoped she 

would be pleased with- Faith Daphne, continued he, I am 

in Love with thee, and despise thy Sister sincerely. The manner 
of his declaring himself gave his Mistress occasion for a very 

hearty Laughter.- Nay, says he, I knew you would Laugh 

at me, hut I 'll ask your Father. He did so; the Father received 
his Intelligence with no less Joy than Surprize, and was very 
glad he had now no Care left but for his Beauty, which he 
thought he could carry to Market at his Leisure. I do not 
know any thing that has pleased me so much a great while, 
as this Conquest of my Friend Daphne's. All her Acquaintance 
congratulate her upon her Chance-Medley, and laugh at that 
premeditating Murderer her Sister. As it is an Argument of a 
light Mind, to think the worse of our selves for the Imperfec¬ 
tions of our Persons, it is equally below us to value our selves 
upon the Advantages of them. The Female World seem to be 
almost incorrigibly gone astray in this Particular; for which 
Reason, I shall recommend the following Extract out of a 
Friend's Letter to the Profess'd Beauties, who are a People 
almost as unsufferable as the Profess'd Wits. 

‘Monsieur St. Evremont has concluded one of his Essays, 
with affirming, that the last Sighs of a handsom Woman are 
not so much for the Loss of her Life, as of her Beauty. Per¬ 
haps this Raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turned upon a 
very obvious Remark, that Woman's strongest Passion is for 
her own Beauty, and that she values it as her Favourite 



loo THE SPECTATOR No. 33. Saturday, April 7, 1711 

Distinction. From hence it is that all Arts, which pretend to 
improve or preserve it, meet with so general a Reception 
among the Sex. To say nothing of many false Helps, and 
Contraband Wares of Beauty, which are daily vended in this 
great Mart, there is not a Maiden-Gentlewoman, of a good 
Family in any Country of South-Britain, who has not heard of 
the Virtues of May-Dew, or is unfurnished with some Receipt 
or other in Favour of her Complexion; and I have known a 
Physician of Learning and Sense, after Eight Years Study in 
the University, and a Course of Travels into most Countries 
of Europe, owe the first raising of his Fortunes to a Cosmetick 
Wash. 

This has given me Occasion to consider how so Universal 
a Disposition in Womankind, which springs from a laudable 
Motive, the Desire of Pleasing, and proceeds upon an Opinion, 
not altogether groundless, that Nature may be helped by Art, 
may be turned to their Advantage. And, methinks, it would 
be an acceptable Service to take them out of the Hands of 
Quacks and Pretenders, and to prevent their imposing upon 
themselves, by discovering to them the true Secret and Art 
of improving Beauty. 

In order to this, before T touch upon it directly, it will be 
necessary to lay down a few Preliminary Maxims, viz. 

That no Woman can be Handsome by the Force of Features 
alone, any more than she can be Witty only by the Help of 
Speech. 

That Pride destroys all Symmetry and Grace, and Affecta¬ 
tion is a more terrible Enemy to fine faces than the Small-Pox. 

That no Woman is capable of being Beautiful, who is not 
incapable of being False. 

And, That what would be Odious in a Friend, is Deformity 
in a Mistress. 

From these few Principles, thus laid down, it will be easie 
to prove, that the true Art of assisting Beauty consists in 
Embellishing the whole Person by the proper Ornaments of 
virtuous and commendable Qualities. By this Help alone it is, 
that those who are the Favourite Work of Nature, or, as Mr. 
Dryden expresses it, the Porcelain Clay of human Kind, become 
animated, and are in a Capacity of exerting their Charms: 
And those who seem to have been neglected by her, like Models 
wrought in haste, are capable, in a great measure, of finishing 
what She has left imperfect. 

It is, methinks, a low and degrading Idea of that Sex, 
which was created to refine the Joys, and soften the Cares of 
Humanity, by the most agreeable Participation, to consider 
them meerly as Objects of Sight. This is abridging them of 



No. 33 - Saturday, April T, 11 THE SPECTATOR loi 

their natural Extent of Power, to put them upon a Level with 
their Pictures at Kneller's. How much nobler is the Contem¬ 
plation of Beauty heightened by Virtue, and commanding our 
Esteem and Love, while it draws our Observation ? How faint 
and spiritless arc the Charms of a Coquet, when compared 
with the real Loveliness of Sophronia*s Innocence, Piety, good 
Humour and Truth; Virtues which add a new Softness to 
her Sex, and even beautifie her Beauty! That Agreeableness, 
which must otherwise have appeared no longer in the modest 
Virgin, is now preserved in the tender Mother, the prudent 
Friend, and the faithful Wife. Colours artfully spread upon 
Canvas may entertain the Eye, but not affect the Heart; and 
she, who takes no Care to add to the natural Graces of her 
Person any excelling Qualities, may be allowed still to amuse, 
as a Picture, but not to triumph as a Beauty. 

When Adam is introduced by Milton describing Eve in 
Paradise, and relating to the Angel the Impressions he felt 
upon seeing her at her first Creation, he does not represent 
her like a Grecian Venus, by her Shape or Features, but by the 
Lustre of her Mind which shone in them, and gave them their 
Power of charming. 

Grace was in all her Steps, Heaven in her Eye, 

In all her Gestures Dignity and Love. 

Without this irradiating Power the proudest Fair One ought 
to know, wliatever her Glass may tell her to the contrary, that 
her most perfect Features are Uninform'd and Dead. 

I cannot better close this Moral, than by a short Epitaph 
written by Ben. Johnson, with a Spirit which nothing could 
inspire but such an Object as I have been describing; 
Underneath this Stone doth lye 
As much Virtue as cou’d die: 

Which when alive did Vigour give 
To as much Beauty as cou'd live. 

I am, Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

R R. B.* 

No. 34. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, April 9. 

Parcit 

Cognatis maculis similis /era . . .—Juv, 

The Club of which I am a Member, is very luckily composed 
of such Persons as are engaged in different Ways of Life, and 
deputed as it were out of the most conspicuous Classes of 



102 THE SPECTATOR No. ^4. Monday, April g, ij 11 

Mankind: By this Means I am furnished with the greatest 
Variety of Hints and Materials, and know every thing that 
passes in the different Quarters and Divisicms, not only of this 
great City, but of the whole Kingdom. My Readers too have 
the Satisfaction to find, that there is no Rank or Degree among 
them who have not their Representative in this Club, and that 
there is always some Body present who will take Care of their 
respective Interests, that nothing may be written or published 
to the Prejudice or Infringement of their just Rights and 
Privileges. 

I last Night sat very late in Company with this select Body 
of Friends, who entertained me with several Remarks which 
they and others had made upon these my Speculations, as also 
with the various Success which they had met with among their 
several Ranks and Degrees of Readers. Will. Honeycomb 
told me, in the softest manner he could, that there were some 
Ladies (but for your Comfort, says Will, they are not those of 
the most Wit) that were offended at the Liberties I had taken 
with the Opera and the Puppet-Show: That some of them were 
likewise very much surprised, that I should think such serious 
Points as the Dress and Equipage of Persons of Quality, proper 
Subjects for Raillery. 

He was going on, when Sir Andrew Freeport took him 
up short, and told him, that the Papers he hinted at had done 
great Good in the City, and that all their Wives and Daughters 
were the better for them: And further added, that the whole 
City thought themselves very much obliged to me for declaring 
my generous Intentions to scourge Vice and Folly as they 
appear in a Multitude, without condescending to be a Pub¬ 
lisher of particular Intreagues and Cuckoldoms. In short, 
says Sir Andrew, if you avoid that foolish beaten Road of 
falling upon Aldermen and Citizens, and employ your Pen 
upon the Vanity and Luxury of Courts, your Paper must needs 
be of general Use. 

Upon this my Friend the Templer told Sir Andrew, That 
he wondered to hear a Man of his Sense talk after that manner; 
that the City had always been the Province for Satyr; and that 
the Wits of King Charles’s Time jested upon nothing else during 
his whole Reign. He then shewed, by the Examples of Horace, 
Juvenal, Soileau, and the best Writers of every Age, that the 
Follies of the Stage and Court had never been accounted too 
sacred for Ridicule, how great soever the Persons might be 
that patroniz'd them. But after all, says he, I think your 
Raillery has made too great an Excursion, in attacking several 
Persons of the Inns of Court; and I do not believe you can 
shew me any Precedent for your Behaviour in that Particular. 



No. 34. Monday, April 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 103 

My good Friend Sir Roger de Coverley, who had said 
nothing all this while, began his Speech with a Pish! and told 
us, That he wondered to see so many Men of Sense so very 
serious upon Fooleries- Let our good Friend, says he, attack 
every one that deserves it: I would only advise you, Mr. 
Spectator, applying himself to me, to take care how you 
meddle with Country Squires: They are the Ornaments of the 
English Nation; Men of Good Heads and sound Bodies! and let 
me tell you, some of them take it ill of you, that you mention 
Fox-hunters with so little Respect. 

Captain Sentry spoke very sparingly on this Occasion. 
What he said was only to commend my Prudence in not touch¬ 
ing upon the Army, and advised me to continue to act dis¬ 
creetly in that Point. 

By this time I found every Subject of my Speculations was 
taken away from me, by one or other of the Club; and began 
to think my self in the Condition of the good Man that had one 
Wife who took a Dislike to his grey Hairs, and another to his 
black, till by their picking out what each of them had an 
Aversion to, they left his Head altogether bald and naked. 

While I was thus musing with my self, my worthy PYiend 
the Clergyman, who, very luckily for me, was at the Club that 
Night, undertook my Cause. He told us, that he wondered 
any Order of Persons should think themselves too considerable 
to be advis’d: That it was not Quality, but Innocence, which 
exempted Men from Reproof: That Vice and Folly ought to be 
attacked where-ever they could be met with, and especially 
when they were placed in high and conspicuous Stations of Life. 
He further added, That my Paper would only serve to aggra¬ 
vate the Pains of Poverty, if it chiefly exposed those who are 
already depress’d, and in some measure turned into Ridicule, 
by the Meanness of their Conditions and Circumstances. He 
afterwards proceeded to take Notice of the great Use this 
Paper might be of to the Publick, by reprehending those Vices 
which are too trivial for the Chastisement of the Law, and too 
fantastical for the Cognizance of the Pulpit. He then advised 
me to prosecute my Undertaking with Chearfulness; and 
assured me, that whoever might be displeased with me, I 
should be approved by all those whose Praises do Honour to the 
Persons on whom they are bestowed. 

The whole Club pays a particular Deference to the Discourse 
of this Gentleman, and are drawn into what he says, as much 
by the candid ingenuous Manner with which he delivers him¬ 
self, as by the Strength of Argument and Force of Reason which 
he makes use of. Will. Honeycomb immediately agreed, that 
what he had said was right; and that for his Part, he would 



104 the spectator JVo. 34. Monday, April 1711 

not insist upon the Quarter which he had demanded for the 
Ladies. Sir Andrew gave up the City with the same Frank¬ 
ness. The Templer would not stand out; and was followed 
by Sir Roger and the Captain: Who all agreed that I should 
be at Liberty to carry the War into what Quarter I pleased; 
provided I continued to combat with Criminals in a Body, 
and to assault the Vice without hurting the Person. 

This Debate, which was held for the Good of Mankind, put 
me in mind of that which the Roman Triumvirate were 
formerly engaged in, for their Destruction. Every Man at 
first stood hard for his Friend, till they found that by this 
Means they should spoil their Proscription: And at length, 
making a Sacrifice of all their Acquaintance and Relations, 
furnished out a very decent Execution. 

Having thus taken my Resolutions to march on boldly in 
the Cause of Virtue and good Sense, and to annoy their Adver¬ 
saries in whatever Degree or Rank of Men they may be found: 
I shall be deaf for the future to all the Remonstrances that shall 
be made to me on this Account. If Punch grows extravagant, 
I shall reprimand him very freely: If the Stage becomes a 
Nursery of Folly and Impertinence, I shall not be afraid to 
animadvert upon it. In short. If I meet with any thing in 
City, Court, or Country, that shocks Modesty or good Manners, 
I shall use my utmost Endeavours to make an Example of it. 
I must however intreat every particular Person, who does me 
the Honour to be a Reader of this Paper, never to think him¬ 
self, or any one of his Friends or Enemies, aimed at in what is 
said: For I promise him, never to draw a faulty Character 
which does not fit at least a Thousand People; or to publish 
a single Paper, that is not written in the Spirit of Benevolence, 
and with a love to Mankind. C 


No. 35. 

[ADDISON,] Tuesday, April lo. 

Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est. —Catull. 

Among all kinds of Writing, there is none in which Authors 
are more apt to miscarry than in Works of Humour, as there is 
none in which they are more ambitious to excel. It is not an 
Imagination that teems with Monsters, an Head that is filled 
witli extravagant Conceptions, which is capable of furnishing 
the World with Diversions of this nature; and yet if we look 
into the Productions of several Writers, who set up for Men 
of Humour, what wild irregular Fancies, what unnatural 
Distortions of Thoughts, do we meet with? If they speak 



N^o. 35 * Tuesday, April 10, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 105 

Nonsense, they believe they are talking Humour; and when 
they have drawn together a Scheme of absurd inconsistent 
Ideas, they are not able to read it over to themselves without 
laughing. These poor Gentlemen endeavour to gain them¬ 
selves the Reputation of Wits and Humourists, by such 
monstrous Conceits as almost qualifie them for Bedlam', not 
considering that Humour should always lye under the Check 
of Reason, and that it requires the Direction of the nicest 
Judgment, by so much the more as it indulges it self in the 
most boundless Freedoms. There is a kind of Nature that is 
to be observed in this sort of Compositions, as well as in all 
other; and a certain Regularity of Thought which must dis¬ 
cover the Writer to be a Man of Sense, at the same time that 
he appears altogether given up to Caprice; For my part, when 
I read the delirious Mirth of an unskilful Author, I cannot be 
so barbarous as to divert my self with it, but am rather apt to 
pity the Man, than to laugh at any thing he writes. 

The Deceased Mr. Shadwell, who had himself a great deal 
of the Talent which I am treating of, represents an empty 
Rake, in one of his Plays, as very much surprized to hear one 
say that breaking of Windows was not Humour; and I question 
not but several English Readers will be as much startled to hear 
me affirm, that many of those raving incoherent Pieces, which 
are often spread among us, under odd Chymerical Titles, are 
rather the Offsprings of a distempered Brain, than Works 
of Humour. 

It is indeed much easier to describe what is not Humour, 
than what is; and very difficult to define it otherwise than as 
Cowley has done Wit, by Negatives. Were I to give my own 
Notions of it, I would deliver them after Plato's manner, in a 
kind of Allegory, and by supposing Humour to be a Person, 
deduce to him all his Qualifications, according to the following 
Genealogy. Truth was the Founder of the Family, and the 
Father of Good Sense. Good Sense was the Father of Wit, 
who married a Lady of a Collateral Line called Mirth, by 
whom he had issue Humour. Humour therefore being the 
youngest of the Illustrious Family, and descended from Parents 
of such different Dispositions, is very various and unequal in 
his Temper; sometimes you see him putting on grave Looks 
and a solemn Habit, sometimes airy in his Behaviour and 
fantastick in bis Dress: Insomuch that at different times he 
appears as serious as a Judge, and as jocular as a Merry- 
Andrew. But as he has a great deal of the Mother in his 
Constitution, whatever Mood he is in, he never fails to make 
his Company laugh. 

But since there is an Impostor abroad, who takes upon him* 



io6 THE SPECTATOR No. 35. Tuesday, April 10, 1711 

the Name of this young Gentleman, and would willingly pass 
for him in the World; to the end that well-meaning Persons 
may not be imposed upon by Cheats, I would desire my 
Readers, when they nieet with this Pretender, to look into his 
Parentage, and to examine him strictly, whether or no he be 
remotely allied to Truth, and lineally descended from Good 
Sense; if not, they may conclude him a Counterfeit. They 
may likewise distinguish him by a loud and excessive Laughter, 
in which he seldom gets his Company to join with him. For as 
True Humour generally looks serious, while every Body laughs 
about him; False Humour is always laughing, whilst every 
Body about him looks serious. I shall only add, if he has not 
in him a Mixture of both Parents, that is, if he would pass for 
the Offspring of Wit without Mirth, or Mi^rth without Wit, 
you may conclude him to be altogether Spurious, and a Cheat. 

The Impostor of whom I am speaking, descends Originally 
from Falsehood, who was the Mother of Nonsense, who was 
brought to Bed of a Son called Frenzy, who Married one 
of the Daughters of Folly, commonly known by the Name of 
Laughter, on whom he begot that Monstrous Infant of which 
1 have been here speaking. I shall set down at length the 
Genealogical Table of False Humour, and, at the same time, 
place under it the Genealogy of True Humour, that the 
Reader may at one View behold their different Pedigrees and 
Relations. 

Falsehood. 

Nonsense. 

Frenzy.-Laughter. 

False Humour. 

Truth. 

Good Sense. 

Wit.-Mirth. 

Humour. 

I might extend the Allegory, by mentioning several of the 
Children of False Humour, who are more in Number than the 
Sands of the Sea, and might in particular enumerate the many 
Sons and Daughters which he has begot in this Island. But as 
this would be a very invidious Task, I shall only observe in 
general, that False Humour differs from the True, as a 
Monkey does from a Man. 

First of all. He is exceedingly given to little Apish Tricks 
and Buffooneries. 

Secondly, He so much delights in Mimickry, that it is all one 
to him whether he exposes by it Vice and Folly, Luxury, and 



No. 35. Tuesday, April 10, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 107 

Avarice: or, on the contrary, Virtue and Wisdom, Pain and 
Poverty. 

Thirdly, He is wonderfully unlucky, insomuch that he will 
bite the Hand that feeds him, and endeavour to ridicule both 
Friends and Foes indifferently. For having but small Talents, 
he must be merry where he can, not where he should. 

Fourthly, Being entirely void of Reason, he pursues no Point 
either of Morality or Instanction, but is Ludicrous only for the 
sake of being so. 

Fifthly, Being incapable of having any thing but Mock- 
Representations, his Ridicule is always Personal, and aimed 
at the Vicious Man, or the Writer; not at the Vice, or at the 
Writing. 

I have here only pointed at the whole Species of False 
Humourists, but as one of my principal Designs in this Paper 
is to beat down that malignant Spirit, which discovers it self 
in the Writings of the present Age, I shall not scruple, for the 
future, to single out any of the small Wits, that infest the World 
with such Compositions as are ill-natured, immoral, and absurd. 
This is the only Exception which I shall make to the General 
Rule I have prescribed my self, of attacking Multitudes: Since 
every honest Man ought to look upon himself as in a Natural 
State of War with the Libeller and Lampooner, and to annoy 
them where-ever they fall in his way. This is but retahating 
upon them, and treating them as they treat others. C 


No. 36. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, April ii. 

... Immania monstra 
Perferimus . . . —Virg. 

I SHALL not put my self to any further Pains for this Day’s 
Entertainment, than barely to publish the Letters and Titles 
of Petitions from the Play-house, with the Minutes I have made 
upon the Latter for my Conduct in Relation to them. 

* Drury-Lane, March the gth. 

Upon reading the Project which is set forth in one of your 
late P^ers, of making an Alliance between all the Bulls, 
Bears, Elephants, and Lions, which are separately exposed to 
publick View in the Cities of London and Westminster', together 
with the other Wonders, Shows, and Monsters, whereof you 
made respective Mention in the said Speculation; We, the chief 
Actors of this Play-house, met and sate upon the said Design. 
It is with great Delight that we expect the Execution of this* 



io8 THE SPECTATOR No. ^6. Wednesday, April ii, 1711 

Work; and in order to contribute to it, we have given Warning 
to all our Ghosts to get their Livelihoods where they can, and 
not to appear among us after Daybreak of the i6th Instant. 
We are resolved to take this Opportunity to part with every 
thing which does not contribute to the Representation of 
human Life; and shall make a free Gift of all animated Utensils 
to your Projector. The Hangings you formerly mentioned are 
run away; as are likewise a Sett of Chairs, each of which was 
met upon two Legs going through the Rose Tavern at two this 
Morning. We hope. Sir, you will give proper Notice to the 
Town that we are endeavouring at these Regulations; and that 
we intend for the future to shew no Monsters, but Men who are 
converted into such by their own Industry and Affectation. 
If you please to be at the House to Night, you will see me do 
my Endeavour to shew some unnatural Appearances which 
are in vogue among the Polite and Well-bred. I am to repre¬ 
sent, in the Character of a fine Lady dancing, all the Dis¬ 
tortions which are frequently taken for Graces in Mien and 
Gesture. This, Sir, is a Specimen of the Method we shall take 
to expose the Monsters which come within the Notice of a 
regular 'rtieatre; and we desire nothing more gross may be 
admitted by you Spectators for the future. We have cashier'd 
three Companies of Theatrical Guards, and design our Kings 
shall for the future make Love, and sit in CouncU, without an 
Army; and wait only your Direction, whether you will have 
them reinforce King Poms, or join the Troops of Macedon. 
Mr. Pinkethman resolves to consult his Pantheon of Heathen 
Gods in Opposition to the Oracle of Delphos, and doubts not 
but he shall turn the Fortunes of Poms, when he personates 
him. I am desired by the Company to inform you, that they 
submit to your Censures; and shall have you in greater 
Veneration than Hercules was in of old, if you can drive 
Monsters from the Theatre; and think your Merit will be as 
much greater than his, as to convince is more than to conquer. 

I am, Sir, 

Your most obedient Servant, 

T. D. 

* Sir, 

When I acquaint you with the great and unexpected Vicissi¬ 
tudes of my Fortune, I doubt not but I shall obtain your Pity 
and Favour. I have for many Years last past been Thunderer 
to the Play-house; and have not only made as much Noise out 
of the Clouds as any Predecessor of mine in the Theatre that 
ever bore that Character, but also have descended and spoke on 
the Stage, as the bold Thunder in the Rehearsal. When they 



No. $6. Wednesday, April II, lyii THE SPECTATOR 109 

got me down thus low, they thought fit to degrade me further, 
and make me a Ghost. I was contented with this for these 
two last Winters; but they carry their Tyranny still further, 
and not satisfied that I am banished from above Ground, they 
have given me to understand that I am wholly to depart their 
Dominions, and taken from me even my subterraneous Employ¬ 
ment. Now, Sir, what I desire of you is, that if your Under¬ 
taker thinks fit to use Fire-Arms (as other Authors have done) 
in the Time of Alexander, I may be a Cannon against Porus, or 
else provide for me in the Burning of Persepolis, or what other 
Method you shall think fit. 

Salmoneus of Covent-Garden.' 

The Petition of all the Devils of the Play-house in behalf of 
themselves and Families, setting forth their Expulsion from 
thence, with Certificates of their good Life and Conversation, 
and praying Relief. 

The Merit of this Petition referred to Mr. Chr. Rich, who made 
them Devils. 

The Petition of the Grave-digger in Hamlet, to command the 
Pioneers in the Expedition of A lexander. 

Granted. 

The Petition of William Buliock, to be Hephestion to Pinketh- 
man the Great. 

Granted. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

A Widow Gentlewoman, well born both by Father and Mother’s 
Side, being the Daughter of Thomas Prater, once an eminent 
Practitioner in the Law, and of Letitia Tattle, a Family well 
known in all Parts of this Kingdom, having been reduced by Mis¬ 
fortunes to wait on several great Persons, and for some time to be 
Teacher at a Boarding-School of young Ladies, giveth Notice to 
the Publick, That she hath lately taken a House near Bloomsbury- 
Square, commodiously situated next the Fields in a good Air; 
where she teaches all Sorts of Birds of the loquacious Kind, as 
Parrots, Starlings, Magpies, and others, to imitate human Voices 
in greater Perfection than ever yet was practised. They are not 
only instructed to pronounce Words distinctly, and in a p 9 oper 
Tone and Accent, but to speak the Language with great Purity and 
Volubility of Tongue, together with all the fashionable Phrases and 
Compliments now in use either at Tea-Tables or visiting Days. 
Those that have good Voices may be taught to sing the newest 
Opera-Airs, and, if required, to speak either Italian or French, 
paying something extraordinary above the common Rates. They 
whose Friends are not able to pay the full Prices may be taken asl* 



no THE SPECTATOR No. Wednesday, April it, 1711 

Half-Boarders. She teaches such as are designed for the Diversion 
of the Publick, and to act in enchanted Woods on the Theatres, 
by the Great. As she has often observed with much Concern how 
indecent an Education is usually given these innocent Creatures, 
which in some Measure is owing to their being placed in Rooms 
next the Street, where, to the great Offence of chaste and tender 
Ears, they learn Ribaldry, obscene Songs, and immodest Expres¬ 
sions from Passengers and idle People, as also to cry Fish and 
Card-matches, with other useless Parts of Learning to Birds who 
have rich Friends, she has fitted up proper and neat Apartments 
for them in the back Part of her said House; where she suffers none 
to approach them but her self, and a Servant Maid who is deaf 
and dumb, and whom she provided on purpose to prepare their 
Food and cleanse their Cages; having found by long Experience 
how hard a thing it is for those to keep Silence who have the Use of 
Speech, and the Dangers her Scholars are exposed to by the strong 
Impressions that are made by harsh Sounds and vulgar Dialects. 
In short, if they are Birds of any Parts or Capacity, she will under¬ 
take to render them so accomplished in the Compass of a Twelve- 
month, that they shall be fit Conversation for sucA Ladies as love 
to chuse their Friends and Companions out of this Species. 


No, 37. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, April 12. 

. . . Non ilia colo cdlathisve Minervae 

Femineas assueta manus . . . —Virg. 

Some Months ago, my Friend Sir Roger, being in the Gauntry, 
enclosed a Letter to me, directed to a certain Lady whom I shall 
here call by the Name of Leonora, and as it contained Matters 
of Consequence, desired me to deliver it to her with my own 
Hand. Accordingly I waited upon her Ladyship pretty early in 
the Morning, and was de.sired by her Woman to walk into her 
Lady's Library, till such time as she was in a Readiness to 
receive me. The very sound of a Lady's Library gave me a 
great Curiosity to see it; and, as it was some time before the 
Lady came to me, I had an Opportunity of turning over a great 
many of her Books, which were ranged together in a very 
beautiful Order. At the End of the Folios (which were finely 
bound and gilt) were great Jars of China placed one above 
another in a very noble piece of Architecture. The Quartos 
were separated from the Octavos by a pile of smaller Vessels, 
which rose in a delightful Pyramid. The Octavos were bounded 
by Tea Dishes of all Shapes Colours and Sizes, which were so 
disposed on a wooden Frame, that they looked like one con- 



No. 27. Thursday, April 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR in 

tdnued Pillar indented with the finest Strokes of Sculpture, and 
stained with the greatest Variety of Dyes. That Part of the 
Library which was designed for the Reception of Plays and 
Pamphlets, and other loose Papers, was inclosed in a kind of 
Square, consisting of one of the prettiest Grotesque Works 
that ever I saw, and made up of Scaramouches, Lions, Monkies, 
Mandarines, Trees, Shells, and a thousand other odd Figures 
in China Ware. In the midst of the Room was a little Japan 
Table, with a Quire of gilt Paper upon it, and on the Paper a 
Silver Snuff-box made in the Shape of a little Book. I found 
there were several other Counterfeit Books upon the upper 
Shelves, which were carved in Wood, and served only to fill up 
the Number, like Faggots in the Muster of a Regiment. I was 
wonderfully pleased with such a mixt kind of Furniture, as 
seemed very suitable both to the Lady and the Scholar, and 
did not know at first whether I should fancy my self in a Grotto, 
or in a Library. 

Upon my looking into the Books, I found there were some 
few which the Lady had bought for her own use, but that most 
of them had been got together, either because she had heard 
them praised, or because she had seen the Authors of them. 
Among several that I examined, I very well remember these 
that follow. 

Ogleby’s Virgil. 

Dryden's Juvenal. 

Cassandra. 

Cleopatra. 

Astraea. 

Sir Isaac Newton's Works. 

The Grand Cyrus: with a Pin stuck in one of the middle 
Leaves. 

Pembroke's Arcadia. 

Lock of Human Understanding: with a Paper of Patches in it. 

A Spelling Book, 

A Dictionary for the Explanation of hard Words. 

Sherlock upon Death. 

The fifteen Comforts of Matrimony. 

Sir William Temple's Essays. 

Father Malbranche's Search after Truth, translated into 
English. 

A Book of Novels. 

The Academy of Compliments. 

Culpepper's Midwifery. 

The Ladies' Calling. 

Tales in Verse by Mr. Durfey: Bound in Red Leather, gilt 
on the Back, and doubled down in several Places. • 



112 THE SPECTATOR No. 37. Thursday, April 12, 1711 

All the Classick Authors in Wood. 

A Set of Elzivers by the same Hand. 

Clelia: Which opened of it self in the Place that describes 
two Lovers in a Bower. 

Baker’s Chronicle. 

Advice to a Daughter. 

The New Atalantis, with a Key to it. 

Mr. Steele’s Christian Heroe. 

A Prayer Book: With a Bottle of Hungary Water by the 
side of it. 

Dr. Sacheverell’s Speech. 

Fielding’s Tryal. 

Seneca’s Morals. 

Taylor’s Holy Living and Dying. 

La Ferte’s Instructions for Country Dances. 

I was taking a Catalogue in my Pocket-Book of these, and 
several other Authors, when Leonora entred, and upon my 
presenting her with the Letter from the Knight, told me, with 
an unspeakable Grace, that she hoped Sir Roger was in good 
Health: I answered Yes, for I hate long Speeches, and after a 
Bow or two retired. 

Leonora was formerly a celebrated Beauty, and is still a 
very lovely Woman. She has been a Widow for two or three 
Years, and being unfortunate in her first Marriage, has taken a 
Resolution never to venture upon a second. She has no 
Children to take care of, and leaves the Management of her 
Estate to my good Friend Sir Roger. But as the Mind natur¬ 
ally sinks into a kind of Lethargy, and falls asleep, that is not 
agitated by some Favourite Pleasures and Pursuits, Leonora 
has turned all the Passions of her Sex into a love of Books 
and Retirement. She converses chiefly with Men (as she has 
often said herself) but it is only in their Writings; and admits 
of very few Male-Visitants, except my Friend Sir Roger, 
whom she hears with great Pleasure, and without Scandal. 
As her Reading has lain very much among Romances, it has 
given her a very particular Turn of Thinking, and discovers it 
self even in her House, her Gardens, and her Furniture. Sir 
Roger has entertained me an Hour together with a Descrip¬ 
tion of her Country-Seat, which is situated in a kind of Wilder¬ 
ness, about an hundred Miles distant from London, and looks 
like a little enchanted Palace. The Rocks about her are 
shaped into Artificial Grottoes, covered with Woodbines and 
Jessamines. The woods are cut into shady Walks, twisted 
into Bowers, and filled with Cages of Turtles. The Springs 
are made to run among Pebbles, and by that means taught to 



No. 37. Thursday, April 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 113 

murmur very agreeably. They are likewise collected into a 
beautiful Lake, that is inhabited by a Couple of Swans, and 
empties it self by a little Rivulet which runs through a green 
Meadow, and is known in the Family by the Name of The 
Purling Stream. The Knight likewise tells me, that this Lady 
preserves her Game better than any of the Gentlemen in the 
Country; not (says Sir Roger) that she sets so great a Value 
upon her Partridges and Pheasants, as upon her Larks and 
Nightingales. For she says that every Bird which is killed 
in her Ground, will spoil a Consort, and that she shall certainly 
miss him the next Year. 

When I think how odly this Lady is improved by Learning, 
I look upon her with a mixture of Admiration and Pity. 
Amidst these innocent Entertainments which she has formed 
to her self, how much more Valuable docs she appear than those 
of her Sex, who employ themselves in Diversions that are less 
Reasonable, though more in Fashion? What improvements 
would a Woman have made, who is so susceptible of Impres¬ 
sions from what she reads, had she been guided to such Books 
as have a tendency to enlighten the Understanding and rectifie 
the Passions, as well as to those which are of little more use 
than to divert the Imagination ? 

But the manner of a Lady's employing her self usefully in 
Reading shall be the Subject of another Paper, in which I 
design to recommend such particular Books as may be proper 
for the Improvement of the Sex. And as this is a Subject of 
a very nice Nature, I shall desire my Correspondents to give 
me their Thoughts upon it. 


No. 38. 

[STEELE.] Friday, April 13. 

. . , Cupias non placuisse nitnis. —Mart. 

A LATE Conversation which I fell into, gave me an Opportunity 
of observing a great deal of Beauty in a very handsome 
Woman, and as much Wit in an ingenious Man, turned into 
Deformity in the one, and Absurdity in the other, by the meer 
Force of Affectation. The Fair One had something in her 
Person upon which her Thoughts were fixed, that she attempted 
to shew to Advantage in every Look, Word, and Gesture. 
The Gentleman was as diligent to do Justice to his fine Parts, 
as the Lady to her beauteous Form: You might see his Imagina¬ 
tion on the Stretch to find out sometliing uncommon, and what 
they call bright, to entertain her; while she writhed her self 
into as many different Postures to engage him. When sh^ 



114 THE SPECTATOR No. 38. Friday, April 13, 1711 

laughed^ her Lips were to sever at a greater Distance than 
ordinary to shew her Teeth: Her Fan was to point to somewhat 
at a Distance, that in the Reach she may discover the Round¬ 
ness of her Arm; then she is utterly mistaken in what she saw, 
falls back, smiles at her own Folly, and is so wholly discom¬ 
posed, that her Tucker is to be adjusted, her Bosom exposed, 
and the whole Woman put into new Airs and Graces. While 
she was doing all this, the Gallant had time to think of some¬ 
thing very pleasant to say next to her, or make some unkind 
Observation on some other Lady to feed her Vanity. These 
unhappy Effects of Affectation naturally led me to look into 
that strange State of Mind which so generally discolours the 
Behaviour of most People we meet with. 

The learned Dr. Burnet, in his Theory of the Earth, takes 
occasion to observe. That every Thought is attended with 
Consciousness and Representativeness; the Mind has nothing 
presented to it but what is immediately followed by a Re¬ 
flection or Conscience, which tells you whether that which was 
80 presented is graceful or unbecoming. This Act of the Mind 
discovers it self in the Gesture, by a proper Behaviour in those 
whose Consciousness goes no further than to direct them in the 
just Progress of their present Thought or Action; but betrays 
an Interruption in every second Thought, when the Conscious¬ 
ness is employ’d in too fondly approving a Man's own Con¬ 
ceptions; which sort of Consciousness is what we call Affectation. 

As the Love of Praise is implanted in our Bosoms as a strong 
Incentive to worthy Actions, it is a very difficult Task to get 
above a Desire of it for things that should be wholly indifferent. 
Women, whose Hearts are fixed upon the Pleasure they have 
in the Consciousness that they are the Objects of Love and 
Admiration, are ever changing the Air of their Countenances, 
and altering the Attitude of their Bodies, to strike the Hearts 
of their Beholders with new Sense of their Beauty. The 
dressing Part of our Sex, whose Minds are the same with the 
sillier Part of the other, are exactly in the like uneasie Condi¬ 
tion to be regarded for a well-tied Cravat, an Hat cocked with 
an unusual Briskness, a very well-chosen Coat, or other In¬ 
stances of Merit, which they are impatient to see unobserved. 

But this apparent Affectation, arising from an ill-governed 
Consciousness, is not so much to be wondered at in such loose 
and trivial Minds as these: But when you see it reign in 
Characters of Worth and Distinction, it is what you cannot 
but lament, not without some .Indignation. It creeps into the 
Heart of the wise Man as well as that of the Coxcomb. When 
you see a Man of Sense look about for Applause, and discover 
an itching Inclination to be commended; lay Traps for a little 



No. 38. Friday, April 13, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 115 

Incense, even from those whose Opinion he values in nothing 
but his own Favour; Who is safe against this Weakness? or 
who knows whether he is guilty of it or not ? The best way to 
get clear of such a light Fondness for Applause, is, to take all 
possible Care to throw off the Love of it upon Occasions that 
are not in themselves laudable; but, as it appears, we hop6 for 
no Praise from them. Of this Nature are all Graces in Men’s 
Persons, Dress, and bodily Deportment; which will naturally be 
winning and attractive if we think not of them, but lose their 
Force in proportion to our Endeavour to make them such. 

When our Consciousness turns upon the main Design of 
Life, and our Thoughts are employed upon the chief Purpose 
either in Business or Pleasure, we shall never betray an Affec¬ 
tation, for we cannot be guilty of it: But when we give the 
Passion for Praise an unbridled Liberty, our Pleasure in little 
Perfections robs us of what is due to us for great Virtues, and 
worthy Qualities. How many excellent Speeches and honest 
Actions are lost, for want of being indifferent where we ought ? 
Men are oppressed with regard to their Way of speaking and 
acting, instead of having their Thought bent upon what they 
should do or say; and by that means bury a Capacity for great 
things, by their fear of failing in indifferent things. This, 
perhaps, cannot be called Affectation; but it has some Tincture 
of it, at least so far, as that their fear of erring in a thing 
of no Consequence, argues they would be too much pleased in 
performing it. 

It is only from a thorough Disregard to himself in such Par¬ 
ticulars, that a Man can act with a laudable Sufficiency: His 
Heart is fixed upon one Point in view; and he commits no 
Errors, because he thinks nothing an Error but what deviates 
from that Intention. 

The wild Havock Affectation makes in that Part of the World 
which should be most polite, is visible where-ever we turn our 
Eyes: It pushes Men not only into Impertinences in Conversa¬ 
tion, but also in their premeditated Speeches. At the Bar it 
torments the Bench, whose Business it is to cut off all Super¬ 
fluities in what is spoken before it by the Practitioner; as well 
as several little Pieces of Injustice which arise from the Law 
it self. I have seen it make a Man run from the Purpose 
before a Judge, who was, when at the Bar himself, so close and 
logical a Pleader, that with all the Pomp of Eloquence in his 
Power, he never spoke a Word too much. 

It might be born even here, but it often ascends the Pulpit 
it self; and the Declaimer, in that sacred Place, is frequently 
so impertinently witty, speaks of the last Day it self with so 
many quaint Phrases, that there is no Man who understands 



ri6 THE SPECTATOR No. 38. Friday, April ly 11 

Raillery, but must resolve to sin no more; Nay, you may be¬ 
hold him sometimes in Prayer, for a proper Delivery of the 
great Truths he is to utter, humble himself with so very well 
turned Phrase, and mention his own Unworthiness in a Way 
80 very becoming, that the Air of the pretty Gentleman is 
preserved, under the Lowliness of the Preacher. 

I shall end this with a short Letter I writ the other Day 
to a very witty Man, over-run with the Fault I am speaking 
Df. 


* Dear Sir, 

I spent some Time with you the other Day, and must take 
the Liberty of a Friend to tell you of the unsufferable* Affecta¬ 
tion you are guilty of in all you say and do. When I gave you 
an Hint of it, you asked me whether a Man is to be cold to 
what his Friends think of him? No; but Praise is not to be 
the Entertainment of every Moment: He that hopes for it must 
be able to suspend the Possession of it till proper Periods of 
Life, or Death it self. If you would not rather be commended 
than be Praise-worthy, contemn little Merits; and allow no 
Man to be so free with you, as to praise you to your Face. 
Your Vanity by this Means will want its Food. At the same 
time your Passion for Esteem will be more fully gratified; Men 
will praise you in their Actions: Where you now receive one 
Compliment, you will then receive twenty Civilities. Till then 
you will never have of either further than, 

Sir, 

R Your humble Servant* 


No. 39. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, April 14. 

Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum. 

Cum scribo . . .—llor. 

As a perfect Tragedy is the noblest Production of human 
Nature, so it is capable of giving the Mind one of the most 
delightful and most improving Entertainments. A virtuous 
Man (says Seneca) strugling with Misfortunes, is such a Spec¬ 
tacle as Gods might look upon with Pleasure: And such a 
Pleasure it is which one meets with in the Representation of a 
well-written Tragedy. Diversions of this kind wear out of our 
Thoughts every thing that is. mean and little. They cherish 
and cultivate that Humanity which is the Ornament of our 
Nature. They soften Insolence, sooth Affliction, and subdue 
the Mind to the Dispensations of Providence. 



No. 39. Saturday, April 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 117 

It is no Wonder therefore that in all the Polite Nations of 
the World, this Part of the Drama has met with Publick 
Encouragement. 

The Modern Tragedy excels that of Greece and Rome, in the 
Intricacy and Disposition of the Fable: but, what a Christian 
Writer would be ashamed to own, falls infinitely short of it in 
the Moral Part of the Performance. 

This I may shew more at large hereafter; and in the mean 
time, that I may contribute something towards the Improve¬ 
ment of the English Tragedy, I shall take notice, in this and in 
other following Papers, of some particular Parts in it that seem 
liable to Exception. 

Aristotle observes, that the lambick Verse in the Greek 
Tongue was the most proper for Tragedy: Because at the same 
time that it lifted up the Discourse from Prose, it was that 
which approached nearer to it than any other kind of Verse. 
For, says he, we may observe that Men in ordinary Discourse 
very often speak lamhicks, without taking Notice of it. We 
may make the same Observation of our English Blank Verse, 
which often enters into our common Discourse, though we do 
not attend to it, and is such a due Medium between Rhyme 
and Prose, that it seems wonderfully adapted to Tragedy. 

I am therefore very much offended when I see a Play in Rhyme; 
which is as absurd in English as a Tragedy of Hexameters 
would have been in Greek or Latin. The Soloecism is, I think, 
still greater, in those Plays that have some Scenes in Rhyme 
and some in Blank Verse, which are to be looked upon as two 
several Languages; or where we see some particular Similies 
dignified with Rhyme, at the same time that every thing 
about them lyes in Blank Verse, I would not however debar 
the Poet from concluding his Tragedy, or, if he plea.ses, every 
Act of it, with two or three Couplets, which may have the same 
Effect as an Air in the Italian Opera after a long Recitativo, 
and give the Actor a graceful Exit. Besides, that we see a 
Diversity of Numbers in some Parts of the Old Tragedy, in 
order to hinder the Ear from being tired with the same 
continued Modulation of Voice. For the same Reason I do 
not dislike the Speeches in our English Tragedy that close 
with an Hemistich, or half Verse, notwithstanding the Person 
who speaks after it begins a new Verse, without filling up the 
preceding one; nor with abrupt Pauses and Breakings-off in 
the middle of a Verse, when they humour any Passion that is 
expressed by it. 

Since I am upon this Subject, I must observe that our 
English Poets have succeeded much better in the Stile, than 
in the Sentiments of their Tragedies. Their Language is very • 



Ii8 THE SPECTATOR No, 39. Saturday, April 14, 1711 

often noble and sonorous, but the Sense either very trifling 
or very common. On the contrary, in the ancient Tragedies, 
and indeed in those of Corneille and Racine, tho’ the Expres¬ 
sions are very great, it is the Thought that bears them up and 
swells them. For my own part, I prefer a noble Sentiment 
that is depressed with homely Language, infinitely before a 
vulgar one that is blown up with all the Sound and Energy of 
Expression. Whether this Defect in our Tragedies may arise 
from Want of Genius, Knowledge, or Experience in the Writers, 
or from their Compliance with the vicious Taste of their 
Readers, who are better Judges of the Language than of 
the Sentiments, and consequently relish the one more than the 
other, I cannot determine. But I believe it might rectifie the 
Conduct both of the one and of the other, if the Writer laid 
down the whole Contexture of his Dialogue in plain English, 
before he turned it into Blank Verse; and if the Reader, after 
the Perusal of a Scene, would consider the naked Thought of 
every Speech in it, when divested of all its Tragick Ornaments: 
By this means, without being imposed upon by Words, we 
may judge impartially of the Thought, and consider whether 
it be natural or great enough for the Person that utters it, 
whether it deserves to shine in such a Blaze of Eloquence, or 
shew it self in such a variety of Lights as are generally made 
use of by the Writers of our English Tragedy. 

I must in the next place observe, that when our Thoughts 
are great and just, they are often obscured by the sounding 
Phrases, hard Metaphors, and forced Expressions in which 
they are cloathed. Shakespear is often very faulty in this 
Particular. There is a fine Observation in Aristotle to this 
purpose, which I have never seen quoted. The Expression, 
says he, ought to be very much laboured in the unactive Parts 
of the Fable, as in Descriptions, Similitudes, Narrations, and 
the like; in which the Opinions, Manners, and Passions of 
Men are not represented; for these (namely the Opinions, 
Manners, and Passions) are apt to be obscured by pompous 
Phrases and elaborate Expressions. Horace, who copy’d 
most of his Criticisms after Aristotle, seems to have had his 
Eye on the foregoing Rule, in the following Verses: 

Et tragicus plerumque dolei sermone pedesiri 
Telephus <&• Peleus, cum pauper 6* exsul uterque 
Projicit ampullas & sesquipedalia verba. 

Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela. 

Tragoedians too lay by their State, to grieve. 

Peleus and Telephus, exil'd and poor, 

Forget their swelling and gigantich Words. 

Ld. Roscommon. 



No. 39. Saturday, April 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 119 

Among our Modern English Poets, there is none who was 
better turned for Tragedy than Lee ; if instead of favouring the 
Impetuosity of his Genius, he had restrained it, and kept it 
within its proper Bounds. His Thoughts are wonderfully 
suited to Tragedy, but frequently lost in such a Cloud of Words, 
that it is hard to see the Beauty of them: There is an infinite 
Fire in his Works, but so involved in Smoak, that it does not 
appear in half its Lustre. He frequently succeeds in the 
passionate Parts of the Tragedy, but more particularly where 
he slackens his Efforts, and eases the Stile of those Epithets 
and Metaphors, in which he .so much abounds. What can be 
more natural, more soft, or more passionate, than that Line in 
Statira’s Speech, where she describes the Charms of Alexander’s 
Conversation ? 

Then he would talk: Good Gods! how he would talk! 

That unexpected Break in the Line, and turning the De¬ 
scription of his manner of Talking into an Admiration of it, is 
inexpressibly beautiful, and wonderfully suited to the fond 
Character of the Person that speaks it. There is a Simplicity 
in the Words, that outshines the utmost Pride of Expression. 

Otway has followed Nature in the Language of his Tragedy, 
and therefore shines in the Passionate Parts, more than any ol 
our English Poets. As there is something Familiar and Domes- 
tick in the Fable of his Tragedy, more than in those of any 
other Poet, he has little Pomp, but great Force in his Expres¬ 
sions. For which Reason, tho’ he has admirably succeeded in 
the tender and melting Part of his Tragedies, he sometimes falls 
into too great a Familiarity of Phrase in those Parts, which, by 
Aristotle’s Rule, ought to have been raised and supported by 
the Dignity of Expression. 

It has been observed by others, that this Poet has founded 
his Tragedy of Venice Preserved on so wrong a Plot, that the 
greatest Characters in it are those of Rebels and Traitors. 
Had the Hero of his Play discovered the same good Qualities 
in the Defence of his Country, that he shewed for its Ruin and 
Subversion, the Audience could not enough pity and admire 
him; But as he is now represented, we can only say of him what 
the Roman Historian says of Catiline, that his Fall would have 
been glorious {si pro Patria sic concidisset) had he so fallen in 
the Service of his Country. C 


I—E 


164 



120 THE SPECTATOR No. 40. Monday, April 16, 1771 
No. 40. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, April 16. 

Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ip.‘ie recusem. 

Cum rccte tractent alii, laudare maligne; 

Ills per extenium funcm mihi posse vidctur 

Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, 

Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, 

Ut magus, modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis .— Hor. 

The English Writers of Tragedy are possessed with a Notion, 
that when they rcjircsent a virtuous or innocent Person in 
Distress, they ought not to leave him till they have delivered 
him out of his Troubles, or made him triumph over his Enemies. 
This Error they have been led into by a ridiculous Doctrine in 
Modern Criticism, that they are obliged to an equal Distribu¬ 
tion of Rewards and Punishments, and an impartial Execu¬ 
tion of Poetical Justice. Who were the first that established 
this Rule I know not; but I am sure it has no Foundation in 
Nature, in Reason, or in the Practice of the Ancients. We find 
that Good and Evil happen alike to all Men on this Side the 
Grave; and as the principal Design of Tragedy is to raise Com¬ 
miseration and Terror in the Minds of the Audience, we shall 
defeat this great End, if we always make Virtue and Innocence 
happy and successful. Whatever Crosses and Disappoint¬ 
ments a good Man suffers in the Body of the Tragedy, they will 
make but small Impression on our Minds, when we know that 
in the last Act he is to arrive at the End of his Wishes and 
Desires. When we see him engaged in the Depth of his 
Afflictions, we are apt to comfort our selves, because we are 
sure he will find his Way out of them; and that his Grief, 
how great soever it may be at present, will soon terminate in 
Gladness. For this Reason, the ancient Writers of Tragedy 
treated Men in their Plays, as they are dealt with in the World, 
by making Virtue sometimes happy and sometimes miserable, 
as they found it in the Fable which they made choice of, or as 
it might afiect their Audience in the most agreeable Manner. 
Aristotle considers the Tragedies that were written in either of 
these Kinds, and observes, that those which ended unhappily, 
had always pleased the People, and carried away the Prize in 
the publick Disputes of the Stage, from those that ended 
happily. Terror and Commiseration leave a pleasing Anguish 
in the Mind; and fix P'*- Audience in such a serious Composure 
of Thought, as is much more lasting and delightful than any 
little transient Starts of Joy and Satisfaction. Accordingly 
we find, that more of our English Tragedies have succeeded, in 
which the Favourites of the Audience sink under their Calam- 



No. ^o. Monday, April i6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 121 

ities, than those in which they recover themselves out of them. 
The best Plays of this Kind are the Orphan, Venice Preserved, 
Alexander the Great, Theodosius, All for Love, Oedipus, Oroonoko, 
Othello, etc. King Lear is an admirable Tragedy of the same 
Kind, as Shakespear wrote it; but as it is reformed accord¬ 
ing to the chymcrical Notion of Poetical Justice, in my humble 
Opinion it has lost half its Beauty. A t the same time I must 
allow, that there are very noble Tragedies, which have been 
framed upon the other Plan, and have ended happily; as in¬ 
deed most of the good Tragedies, which have been written 
since the starting of the ^ove-mentioned Criticism, have 
taken this Turn; As the Mourning Bride, Tamerlane, Ulysses, 
Phaedra and Hyppoliius, with most of Mr. Dryden's. I must 
also allow, that many of Shakespear's, and several of the 
celebrated Tragedies of Antiquity, are cast in the same Form. 

I do not therefore dispute against this way of writing Tragedies, 
but against the criticism that would establish this as the only 
Method; and by that Means would very much cramp the Eng¬ 
lish Tragedy, and perhaps give a wrong Bent to the Genius 
of our Writers. 

The Tragi-Comedy, which is the Product of the English 
Theatre, is one of the mo.st monstrous Inventions that ever 
entered into a Poet’s Thoughts. An Author might as well 
think of weaving the Adventures of Aeneas and Hudibras into 
one Poem, as of writing such a motly Piece of Mirth and Sor¬ 
row. But the Absurdity of these Performances is so very 
visible, that 1 shall not insist upon it. 

The same Objections which are made to Tragi-Comedy, 
may in some Measure be applied to all Tragedies that liave a 
double Plot in them; which are likewise more frequent upon 
the English Stage, than upon any other: For though the Grief 
of the Audience, in such Performances, be not changed into 
another Passion, as in Tragi-Comedies; it is diverted upon 
another Object, which weakens their Concern for the principal 
Action, and breaks the Tide of Sorrow, by throwing it into 
different Channels. This Inconvenience, however, may in a 
great Measure be cured, if not wholly removed, by the 
skilful Choice of an Under-Plot, which may bear such a 
near Relation to the principal Design, as to contribute to¬ 
wards the Completion of it, and be concluded by the same 
Catastrophe. 

There is also another Particular, which may be reckoned 
among the Blemishes, or rather the false Beauties, of our 
English Tragedy: I mean those particular Speeches which are 
commoaly known by the Name of Rants. The warm and 
passionate Parts of a Tragedy, are always the most taking with * 



122 THE SPECTATOR No. Monday^ April i 6 , ijii 

the Audience; for which Reason we often see the Players pro¬ 
nouncing, in all the Violence of Action, several Parts of the 
Tragedy which the Author writ with great Temper, and de¬ 
signed that they should have been so acted. I have seen 
Powell very often raise himself a loud Clap by this Artifice. 
The Poets that were acquainted with this Secret, have given 
frequent Occasion for such Emotions in the Actor, by adding 
Vehemence to Words where there was no Passion, or inflaming 
a real Passion into Fustian. This hath filled the Mouths of our 
Heroes with Bombast; and given them such Sentiments, as 
proceed rather from a Swelling* than a Greatness of Mind. 
Unnatural Exclamations, Curses, Vows, Blasphemies, a De¬ 
fiance of Mankind, and an Outraging of the Gods, frequently 
pass upon the Audience for tow'ring Thoughts, and have 
accordingly met with infinite Applause. 

I shall here add a Remark, which I am afraid our Tragick 
Writers may make an ill use of. As our Heroes are generally 
Lovers, their Swelling and Blustring upon the Stage very much 
recommends them to the fair Part of their Audience. The 
Ladies are wonderfully pleased to see a Man insulting Kings, 
or affronting the Gods, in one Scene, and throwing himself at 
the Feet of his Mistress in another. Let him behave himself 
insolently towards the Men, and abjectly towards the Fair One, 
and it is ten to one but he proves a Favourite of the Boxes. 
Dry den and Lee, in several of their Tragedies, have practised 
this Secret with good Success. 

But to shew how a Rant pleases beyond the most just and 
natural Thought that is not pronounced with Vehemence, I 
would desire the Reader, when he sees the Tragedy of Oedipus, 
to observe how quietly the Hero is dismissed at the End of the 
third Act, after having pronounced the following Lines, in 
which the Thought is very natural, and apt to move Com¬ 
passion : 

To you, good Gods, I make my last Appeal, 

Or clear my Virtues, or my Crimes reveal. 

If in the Maze of Fate I blindly run. 

And backward trod those Paths I sought to shun; 

Impute my Errors to your own Decree: 

My Hands are guilty, but my Heart is free. 

Let us then observe with what Thunder-claps of Applause he 
leaves the Stage, after the Impieties and Execrations at the 
End of the fourth Act; and you will wonder to see an Audience 
so cursed and so pleased at the same time. 

0 that as oft I have at Athens seen, 

[Where, by the way, there was no Stage -till many 
Years aher Oedipus.'] 



No. 40. Monday, April 16, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 123 

The Stage arise, and the big Clouds descend: 

So now, in very deed, I might behold 

This pond’rous Globe, and all yon marble Roof, 

Mcit, like the Hands of Jove, and crush Mankind. 

For all the Elements, &c. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

Having spoken of Mr. Powell, as sometimes raising himself 
Applause from the ill Taste of an Audience; I must do him the 
Justice to own, that he is excellently formed fora Tragoedian, and, 
when he pleases, deserves the Admiration of the best Judges; as I 
doubt not but he will in the Conquest of Mexico, which is acted 
for his own Benefit To-morrow Night. C 


No. 41. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, April 17. 

. . . Tu non inventa referta es. —Ovid. 

Compassion for the Gentleman who writes the following 
Letter, should not prevail upon me to fall upon the Fair Sex, 
if it were not that I find they are frequently Fairer than they 
ought to be. Such Impostures are not to be tolerated in Civil 
Society; and I think his Misfortune ought to be made publick, 
as a Warning for other Men always to Examine into what 
they Admire. 

‘Sir, 

Supposing you to be a Person of general Knowledge, I make 
my Application to you on a very particular Occasion. I have 
a great mind to be rid of my Wife, and hope, when you consider 
my Case, you will be of Opinion I have very just Pretensions 
to a Divorce. I am a mere Man of the Town, and have very 
little Improvement, but what I have got from Plays. I re¬ 
member in The Silent Woman, the Learned Dr. Cutberd, or Dr. 
Otter (I f#rget which) makes one of the Causes of Separation to 
be Error Personae, when a Man marries a Woman, and finds her 
not to be the same Woman whom he intended to marry, but 
another. If that be Law, it is, I presume, exactly my Case. 
For you are to know, Mr. Spectator, that there are Women 
who do not let their Husbands see their Faces till they are 
married. 

Not to keep you in Suspense, I mean plainly, that Part 
of the Sex who paint. They are some of them so exquisitely 
skilful this Way, that give them but a tolerable Pair of Eyes • 



124 THE SPECTATOR No. Tuesday, April 17, 1711 

to set up with, and they will make Bosom, Lips, Cheeks, and 
Eyebrows, by their own Industry. As for my Dear, never 
Man was so inamour’d as I was of her fair Forehead, Neck and 
Arms, as well as the bright Jett of her Hair; but to my great 
Astonishment, I find they were all the Effect of Art: Her Skin 
is so tarnished with this Practice, that when she first wakes in 
a Morning, she scarce seems young enough to be the Mother 
of her whom I carried to Bed the Night before. I shall take 
the Liberty to part with her by the first Opportunity, unless her 
Father will make her Portion suitable to her real, not her as¬ 
sumed, Countenance. This I thought fit to let him and her 
know by your Means. I am. 

Sir, 

Your most Obedient Humble Servant.’ 

I cannot tell what the Law, or the Parents of the Lady will 
do for this Injured Gentleman, but must allow he has very 
much Justice on his side. I have indeed very long observed 
this Evil, and distinguished those of our Women who wear 
their own, from those in borrowed Complexions, by the Piets 
and the British. There does not need any great Discernment 
to judge which are which. The British have a lively animated 
Aspect; The Piets, though never so Beautiful, have dead un¬ 
informed Countenances. The Muscles of a real Face some¬ 
times swell with soft Passion, sudden Surprize, and are flushed 
with agreeable Confusions, according as the Objects before 
them, or the Ideas presented to them, affect their Imagination. 
But the Piets behold all things with the same Air, whether they 
are Joyful or Sad; the same fixed Insensibility appears upon 
all Occasions. A Piet, though she takes all that Pains to 
invite the Approach of Lovers, is obliged to keep them at a 
certain Distance; a Sigh in a Languishing Lover, if fetched too 
near her, would dissolve a Feature; and a Kiss snatched by a 
Forward one, might transfer the Complexion of the Mistress 
to the Admirer. It is hard to speak of these false Fair Ones, 
without saying something uncomplaisant, but I would only 
recommend to them to consider how they like coming into a 
Room new Painted; they may assure themselves, the near 
Approach of a Lady who uses this Practice is much more 
ofensive. 

Will. Honeycomb told us, one Day, an Adventure he once 
had with a Piet. This Lady had Wit, as well as Beauty, at 
Will; and made it her Business to gain Hearts, for no other 
Reason, but to railly the Torments of her Lovers. She would 
make great Advances to insnare Men, but without any manner 
of Scruple break off when there was no Provocation. Her Ill- 



No. 41. Tuesday, April 17, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 125 

Nature and Vanity made my Friend very easily Proof against 
the Charms of her Wit and Conversation; but her beauteous 
Form, instead of being blemished by her Falshood and In¬ 
constancy, every Day increased upon him, and she had new 
Attractions every time he saw her. When she observed Will. 
irrevocably her Slave, she began to use him as such, and after 
many Steps toward such a Cruelty, she at last utterly banished 
him. The unhappy Lover strove in vain, by servile Epistles, 
to revoke his Doom; till at length he was forced to the last 
Refuge, a round Sum of Mony to her Maid. This corrupt 
Attendant placed him early in the Morning behind the Hang¬ 
ings in her Mistress's Dressing-Room. He stood very con¬ 
veniently to observe, without being seen. The Piet begins the 
Face she designed to wear that Day, and 1 have heard him 
protest she had worked a full half Hour before he knew her to 
be the same Woman. As soon as he saw the Dawn of that 
Complexion, for which he had so long languished, he thought 
fit to break from his Concealment, repeating that of Cowley: 

Th' adorning Thee with so much Art, 

Is but a barbarous Skill; 

‘Tis like the Pois’ning of a Dart, 

Too apt before to kill. 

The Piet stood before him in the utmost Confusion, with 
the prettiest Smirk imaginable on the finish'd side of her 
Face, pale as Ashes on the other. Honeycomb seized all her 
Gally-pots and Washes, and carried ofi his Handkerchief full 
of Brushes, Scraps of Spanish Wooll, and Phials of Unguents. 
The Lady went into the Country; the Lover was cured. 

It is certain no Faith ought to be kept with Cheats, and an 
Oath made to a Piet is of it self void. I would therefore exhort 
all the British Ladies to single them out, nor do I know any 
but Lindamira who should be exempt from Discovery; for her 
own Complexion is so delicate, that she ought to be allowed the 
Covering it with Paint, as a Punishment for chusing to be the 
worst Piece of Art extant, instead of the Masterpiece of Nature. 
As for my Part, who have no Expectations from Women, and 
consider them only as they are Part of the Species, I do not 
half so much fear offending a Beauty as a Woman of Sense; 
I shall therefore produce several Faces which have been in 
Publick this many Years, and never appeared; it will be a 
very pretty Entertainment in the Play-house (when I have 
abolished this Custom) to see so many Ladies, when they 
first lay it down, incog, in their own Faces. 

In the mean time, as a Pattern for improving their Charms, 
let the Sex study the agreeable Statira. Her Features are* 



126 THE SPECTATOR No. 41. Tuesday, April 17, 1711 

enlivened with the Chearfulness of her Mind, and good Humour 
gives an Alacrity to her Eyes. She is Graceful without 
affecting an Air, and Unconcerned without appearing Careless. 
Her having no manner of Art in her Mind, makes her want none 
in her Person. 

How like is this Lady, and how unlike is a Piet, to that 
Description Dr. Donne gives of his Mistress ? 

. . . Her pure and eloquent Blood 

Spoke in her Cheeks, and so distinctly tvrought. 

That one would almost say her Body thought. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

A young Gentlewoman 0/ about Nineteen Years of Age {bred 
in the Family of a Person of Quality lately deceased) who Paints 
the Finest Flesh-colour, wants a Place, and is to be heard of at the 
House of Minheer Grotesque, a Dutch Painter in Barbican. 

N.B. She is also well skilled in the Drapery-part, and puts on 
Hoods, and mixes Ribbons so as to suit the Colours of the Face 
with Great Art and Success. R 


No. 42. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, April 18. 

Garganum mugire putes nemus aut mare Tuscum. 

Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, 6* artes, 

Divitiaeque peregrinae: quibus oblitus actor 
Cum stetit in scena, concurrit dextera laevae. 

Dixit adhuc aliquid? Nil sane. Quid placet ergo? 

Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno. —Hor. 

Aristotle has observed, that ordinary Writers in Tragedy 
endeavour to raise Terror and Pity in their Audience, not by 
proper Sentiments and Expressions, but by the Dresses and 
Decorations of the Stage. There is something of this kind 
very ridiculous in the English Theatre. When the Author has 
a mind to terrifie us, it thunders; when he would make us 
melancholy, the Stage is darkened. But among all our Tragick 
Artifices, I am the most offended at those which are made use 
of to inspire us with magnificent Ideas of the Persons that 
speak. The ordinary Method of making an Hero, is to clap 
a huge Plume of Feathers upon his Head, which rises so very 
high, that there is often a greater Length from his Chin to the 
Top of his Head, than to tfie Sole of his Foot. One would 
believe, that we thought a great Man and a tall Man the same 
thing. This very much embarrasses the Actor, who is forced 
to hold his Neck extremaly stiff and steady all the while he 



No. ^2. Wednesday, April idt, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 127 

speaks; and notwithstanding any Anxieties which he pretends 
for his Mistress, his Country, or his Friends, one may see by his 
Action, that his greatest Care and Concern is to keep the Plume 
of Feathers from falling off his Head. For my own part, when 
I see a Man uttering his Complaints under such a Mountain 
of Feathers, I am apt to look upon him rather as an un¬ 
fortunate Lunatick, than a Distressed Hero. As these super¬ 
fluous Ornaments upon the Head make a great Man, a Princess 
generally receives her Grandeur from those additional incum¬ 
brances that fall into her Tail: I mean the broad sweeping 
Train that follows her in all her Motions, and finds constant 
Employment for a Boy who stands behind her to open and 
spread it to Advantage. I do not know how others are affected 
at this Sight, but I must confess, my Eyes are wholly taken 
up with the Page’s Part; and as for the Queen, I am not so 
attentive to any thing she speaks, as to the right adjusting of 
her Train, lest it should chance to trip up her Heels, or incom¬ 
mode her, as she walks to and fro upon the Stage. It is, in 
my Opinion, a very odd Spectacle, to see a Queen venting her 
Passion in a disordered Motion, and a little Boy taking Care 
all the while that they do not ruffle the Tail of her Gown. 
The Parts that the two Persons act on the Stage at the same 
Time, are very different: The Princess is afraid lest she should 
incur the Displeasure of the King her Father, or lose the Hero 
her Lover, whilst her Attendant is only concerned lest she 
should entangle her Feet in her Petticoat. 

We are told, that an ancient Tragick Poet, to move the Pity 
of his Audience for his exiled Kings and distressed Heroes, used 
to make the Actors represent them in Dresses and Cloaths 
that were thread-bare and decayed. This Artifice for moving 
Pity seems as ill contrived, as that we have been speaking of 
to inspire us with a great Idea of the Persons introduced upon 
the Stage. In short, I would have our Conceptions raised by 
the Dignity of Thought and Sublimity of Expression, rather 
than by a Train of Robes or a Plume of Feathers. 

Another Mechanical Method of making great Men, and adding 
Dignity to Kings and Queens, is to accompany them with 
Halberts and Battel-axes. Two or three Shifters of Scenes, 
with the two Candle-Snuffers, make up a compleat Body of 
Guards upon the English Stage; and by the Addition of a few 
Porters dressed in Red Coats, can represent above a dozen 
Legions. I have sometimes seen a couple of Armies drawn up 
together upon the Stage, when the Poet has been disposed to do 
Honour to his Generals. It is impossible for the Reader’s 
Imagination to multiply twenty Men into such prodigious 
Multitudes, or to fancy that two or three hundred thousand* 
I—*E 



128 THE SPECTATOR No. 42. Wednesday, April 18.1711 

Soldiers are fighting in a Room oi forty or fifty Yards in 
Compass. Incidents of such a nature should be told, not 
represented. 

. . . Non tamen intus 

Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles 

Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens. —Hor. 

Yet there are things improper for a Scene, 

Which Men of Judgment only will relate. —Ld. Roscommon. 

I should therefore, in this Particular, recommend to my 
Countrymen the Example of the French Stage, where the Kings 
and Queens always appear unattended, and leave their Guards 
behind the Scenes. 1 should likewise be glad if we imitated 
the French in banishing from our Stage the Noise of Drums, 
Trumpets, and Huzzas; which is sometimes so very great, that 
when there is a Battel in the Hay-Market Theatre, one may hear 
it as far as Charing-Cross. 

I have here only touched upon those Particulars which are 
made use of to raise and aggrandize the Persons of a Tragedy; 
and shall shew in another Paper the several Expedients which 
are practised by Authors of a vulgar Genius to move Terror, 
Pity, or Admiration, in their Hearers. 

The Taylor and the Painter often contribute to the Success 
of a Tragedy more than the Poet. Scenes affect ordinary 
Minds as much as Speeches; and our Actors are very sensible, 
that a well-dressed Play has sometimes brought them as full 
Audiences, as a well-written one. The Italians have a very 
good Phrase to express this Art of imposing upon the Spectators 
by Appearances: They call it the Fourberia della Scena, The 
Knavery or trickish Part of the Drama. But however the 
Show and Outside of the Tragedy may work upon the Vulgar, 
the more understanding Part of the Audience immediately 
see through it, and despise it. 

A good Poet will give the Reader a more lively Idea of an 
Army or a Battel in a Description, than if he actually saw them 
drawn up in Squadrons and Battalions, or engaged in the 
Confusion of a Fight. Our Minds should be opened to great 
Conceptions, and inflamed with glorious Sentiments, by what 
the Actor speaks, more than by what he appears. Can all the 
Trappings or Equipage of a King or Hero, give Brutus half that 
Pomp and Majesty which he receives from a few Lines in 
Shakespear ? C 



No. 43. Thursday, April ig, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 129 
No. 43. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, April 19. 

Hae tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem, 

Parcere subjectis, 6* debcllare superbos. —Virg. 

There are Crowds of Men, whose great Misfortune it is that 
they were not bound to Mechanick Arts or Trades; it being 
absolutely necessary for them to be led by some continual 
Task or Employment. These are such as we commonly call 
Dull Fellows; Persons, who for want of something to do, out 
of a certain Vacancy of thought, rather than Curiosity, arc 
ever meddling with things for which they are unfit. I cannot 
give you a Notion of them better than by presenting you with 
a Letter from a Gentleman, who belongs to a Society of this 
Order of Men, residing at Oxford. 

‘Oxford, April 13, 1711. 

Sir, Four a clock in the Morning. 

In some of your late Speculations, I find some Sketches 
towards an History of Clubs: But you seem to me to shew 
them in somewhat too ludicrous a Light. I have well weighed 
that Matter, and think that the most important Negotiations 
may best be carried on in such Assemblies. I shall, therefore, 
for the Good of Mankind (which, I trust, you and I are equally 
concerned for) propose an Institution of that Nature for 
Example sake. 

I must confess, the Design and Transactions of too many 
Clubs are trifling, and manifestly of no Consequence to the 
Nation or publick Weal: Those I '11 give you up. But you 
must do me then the Justice to own, that nothing can be more 
useful or laudable, than the Scheme we go upon. To avoid 
Nicknames and Witticisms, we call our selves The Hebdomadal 
Meeting: Our President continues for a Year at least, and some¬ 
times four or five: We are all Grave, Serious, Designing Men, in 
our Way: We think it our Duty, as far as in us lies, to take care 
the Constitution receives no Harm —Ne quid detrimenti Res 
capiat publica —. To censure Doctrines or Facts, Persons or 
Things, which we don’t like; to settle the Nation at home, and 
to carry on the War abroad, where and in what manner we see 
fit: If other People are not of our Opinion, we can't help that. 
'Twere better they were. Moreover, we now and then con¬ 
descend to direct, in some measure, the little Affairs of our own 
University. 

Verily, Mr. Spectator, we are much offended at the Act for 
importing French Wines: A Bottle or two of good solid Edifying 
Port at honest George's, made a night cheerful, and threw off 
Reserve. But this plaguy French Claret will not only cost us« 



130 THE SPECTATOR No. 43. Thursday, April ig, jy 11 

more Mony, but do us less Good: Had we been aware of it, 
before it had gone too far, I must tell you we would have 
petitioned to be heard upon that Subject. But let that pass. 

I must let you know likewise, good Sir, that we look upon a 
certain Northern Prince's March, in Conjunction with Infidels, 
to be palpably against our good Will and Liking; and for all 
Monsieur Palmquisi, a most dangerous Innovation; and we are 
by no means yet sure, that some People are not at the Bottom 
on't. At least, my own private Letters leave Room for a 
Politician, well vers'd in matters of this nature, to suspect as 
much, as a penetrating Friend of mine tells me. 

We think we have at last done the Business with the Male- 
contents in Hungary, and shall clap up a Peace there. 

What the Neutrality Army is to do, or what the Army in 
Flanders, and what two or three other Princes, is not yet fully 
determined among us; and we wait impatiently for the coming 
in of the next Dyer's, who, you must know, is our Authentick 
Intelligence, our Aristotle .in Politicks. And 'tis indeed but fit 
there should be some dernier Resort, the absolute Decider of 
all Controversies. 

We were lately informed, that the Gallant Train'd-Bands 
had patroll'd all Night long about the Streets of London: 
We indeed could not imagine any Occasion for it, we guess'd 
not a Tittle on't aforehand, we were in nothing of the Secret; 
and that City Tradesmen, or their Apprentices should do Duty, 
or work, during the Holidays, we thought absolutely impos¬ 
sible : But Dyer being positive in it, and some Letters from other 
People, who had talked with some who had it from those who 
should know, giving some Countenance to it, the Chairman 
reported from the Committee, appointed to examine into that 
Affair, That 'twas Possible there might be something in't. 
I have much more to say to you, but my two good Friends and 
Neighbours, Dominic and Slyboots, are just come in, and the 
Coffee's ready. 

I am, in the mean time, 

Mr. Spectator, 

Your Admirer, and 

Humble Servant, 

Abraham Froth.' 

You may observe the Turn of their Minds tends only to 
Novelty, and not Satisfaction in any thing. It would be 
Disappointment to them, to come to Certainty in any thing, for 
that would gravel them, and put an end to their Enquiries, 
which dull Fellows do not make for Information, but for Exer¬ 
cise. I do not know but this may be a very good way of 



No. 43' Thursday, April ig, lyII THE SPECTATOR 131 

accounting for what we frequently see, to wit, that dull Fellows 
prove very good Men of Business. Business relieves them from 
their own natural Heaviness, by furnishing them with what to 
do; whereas Business to Mercurial Men, is an Interruption from 
their real Existence and Happiness. Tho' the dull Part of 
Mankind are harmjess in their Amusements, it were to be 
wished they had no vacant Time, because they usually under¬ 
take something that makes their Wants conspicuous, by their 
manner of supplying them. You shall seldom find a dull 
Fellow of good Education, but (if he happens to have any 
Leisure upon his Hands) will turn his Head to one of those two 
Amusements, for all Fools of Eminence, Politicks or Poetry. 
The former of these Arts, is the Study of all dull People in 
general; but when Dulness is lodged in a Person of a quick 
Animal I.ife, it generally exerts it self in Poetry. One might 
here mention a few Military Writers, who give great Enter¬ 
tainment to the Age, by reason that the Stupidity of their 
Heads is quickened by the Alacrity of their Hearts. This 
Constitution in a dull Fellow, gives Vigour to Nonsense, and 
makes the Puddle boil, which would otherwise Stagnate. The 
British Prince, that Celebrated Poem, which was written in the 
Reign of King Charles the Second, and deservedly called by the 
Wits of that Age Incomparable, was the Effect of such an happy 
Genius as we are speaking of. From among many other 
Disticks no less to be quoted on this Account, I cannot but 
recite the two following Lines. 

A painted Vest Prince Voltager had on, 

Which from a Naked Piet his Grand sire won. 

Here if the Poet had not been Vivacious, as well as Stupid, 
he could not, in the Warmth and Hurry of Nonsense, have been 
capable of forgetting that neither Prince Voltager, nor his Grand¬ 
father, could strip a Naked Man of his Doublet; but a Fool of a 
colder Constitution would have staled to have Fleaed the Piet, 
and made Bufi of his Skin, for the Wearing of the Conqueror. 

To bring these Observations to some useful Purpose of Life, 
what I would propose should be, that we imitated those wise 
Nations, wherein every Man learns some Handicraft Work. 
Would it not employ a Beau prettily enough, if instead of 
eternally playing with a Snuff-Box, he spent some part of his 
Time in making one ? Such a Method as this would very much 
conduce to the publick Emolument, by making every Man 
Living good for something; for there would then be no one 
Member of human Society, but would have some little Pre¬ 
tension for some Degree in it; like him who came to WilV^ 
Cofiee-house, upon the Merit of having writ a Posie of a Ring. , 

R 



132 THE SPECTATOR No. 44. Friday, April 20, 1711 
No. 44. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, April 20. 

Tu quid ego 6* populus mecum desideret audi. —Hor. 

Among the several Artifices which are put in Practice by the 
Poets to fill the Minds of an Audience with Terror, the first 
Place is due to Thunder and Lightning, which are often made 
use of at the Descending of a God, or the Rising of a Ghost, at 
the Vanishing of a Devil, or at the Death of a Tyrant. I have 
known a Bell introduced into sevefal Tragedies with good 
Efiect; and have seen the whole Assembly in a very great 
Alarm all the while it has been ringing. But there is nothing 
which delights and terrifies our English Theatre so much as a 
Ghost, especially when he appears in a bloody Shirt. A 
Spectre has very often saved a Play, though he has done 
nothing but stalked across the Stage, or rose through a Cleft of 
it, and sunk again without speaking one Word. There may be 
a proper Season for these several Terrors; and when they only 
come in as Aids and Assistances to the Poet, they are not only 
to be excused, but to be applauded. Thus the sounding of 
the Clock in Venice Preserved, makes the Hearts of the whole 
Audience quake; and conveys a stronger Terror’ to the Mind, 
than it is possible for Words to do. The Appearance of the 
Ghost in Hamlet is a Master-piece in its kind, and wrought up 
with all the Circumstances that can create either Attention or 
Horror. The Mind of the Reader is wonderfully prepared for 
his Reception, by the Discourses that precede it: His dumb 
Behaviour at his first Entrance, strikes the Imagination very 
strongly; but every time he enters, he is still more terrifying. 
Who can read the Speech with which young Hamlet accosts 
him, without trembling ? 

Hor. Look, my Lord, it comes! 

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend us! 

Be thou a Spirit of Health, or Goblin damn’d: 

Bring with thee Airs from Heav’n, or Blasts from Hell; 

Be thy Events wicked or charitable; 

Thou com’st in such a questionable Shape 
That I will speak to thee. I ’ll call thee Hamlet. 

King, Father, Royal Dane: Oh! Oh! Answer me. 

Let me not burst in Ignorance: but tell 
Why thy canoniz’d Bones, hearsed in Death, 

Have hurst their Cearments? Why the Sepulchre, 

Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn’d, 

Hath op’d his ponderous and marble Jaws 
To cast thee up again! What may this mean? 

That thou dead Coarse again in complete Steel 
Revisit’st thus the Glimpses of the Moon, 

Making Night hideous? 



No. 44. Friday, April 20, lyii THE SPECTATOR 133 

I do not therefore find Fault with the Artifices above-mentioned 
when they are introduced with Skill, and accompanied by 
proportionable Sentiments and Expressions in the Writing. 

For the moving of Pity, our principal Machine is the Hand¬ 
kerchief; and indeed in our common Tragedies, we should not 
know very often that the Persons are in Distress by any thing 
they say, if they did not from time to time apply their Hand¬ 
kerchiefs to their Eyes. Far be it from me to think of banish¬ 
ing this Instrument of Sorrow from the Stage; I know a 
Tragedy could not subsi.st without it: All that I would contend 
for, is to keep it from being misapplied. In a Word, I would 
have the Actor’s Tongue sympathize with his Eyes. 

A disconsolate Mother, with a Child in her Hand, has 
frequently drawn Compassion from the Audience, and has 
therefore gained a Place in several Tragedies. A Modern 
Writer, that observed how this had took in other Plays, being 
resolved to double the Distress, and melt his Audience twice 
as much as those before him had done, brought a Princess upon 
the Stage with a little Boy in one Hand and a Girl in the other. 
This too had a very good Effect. A third Poet, being resolved 
to outwrite all his Predecessors, a few Years ago introduced 
three Children with great Success: And, as I am informed, 
a young Gentleman, who is fully determined to break the 
most obdurate Hearts, has a Tragedy by him, where the first 
Person that appears upon the Stage is an afflicted Widow in 
her Mourning-Weeds, with half a Dozen fatherless Children 
attending her, like those that usually hang about the Figure of 
Charity. Thus several Incidents that are beautiful in a good 
Writer, become ridiculous by falling into the Hands of a bad one. 

But among all our Methods of moving Pity or Terror, there 
is none so absurd and barbarous, and what more exposes us to 
the Contempt and Ridicule of our Neighbours, than that 
dreadful butchering of one another, which is so very frequent 
upon the English Stage. To delight in seeing Men stabbed, 
poisoned, racked, or impaled, is certainly the Sign of a cruel 
Temper: And as this is often practised before the British 
Audience, several French Criticks, who think these are grateful 
Spectacles to us, take Occasion from them to represent us as a 
People that delight in Blood. It is indeed very odd, to see our 
Stage strowed with Carcasses in the last Scene of a Tragedy; 
and to observe in the Ward-robe of the Play-house several 
Daggers, Poniards, Wheels, Bowls for Poison, and many other 
Instruments of Death. Murders and Executions are always 
transacted behind the Scenes in the French Theatre; which in 
general is very agreeable to the Manners of a polite and civilised , 
People: But as there are no Exceptions to this Rule on the* 



134 THE SPECTATOR No. 44. Friday, April 20, 1711 

French Stage, it leads them into Absurdities almost as ridicu¬ 
lous as that which falls under our present Censure. I re¬ 
member in the famous Play of Corneille, written upon the 
Subject of the Horatii and Curiaiii ; the fierce young Hero who 
had overcome the Curiatii one after another, (instead of being 
congratulated by his Sister for his Victory, being upbraided 
by her for having slain her Lover) in the height of his Passion 
and Resentment kills her. If any thing could extenuate so 
brutal an Action, it would be the doing of it on a sudden, before 
the Sentiments of Nature, Reason, or Manhood could take 
Place in him. However, to avoid publick Bloodshed, as soon 
as his Passion is wrought to its Height, he follows his Sister 
the whole length of the Stage, and forbears killing her till they 
are both withdrawn behind the Scenes. I must confess, had 
he murder'd her before the Audience, the Indecency might 
have been greater; but as it is, it appears very unnatural, and 
looks like killing in cold Blood. To give my Opinion upon 
this Case; the Fact ought not to have been represented, but to 
have been told, if there was any Occasion for it. 

It may not be unacceptable to the Reader, to see how 
Sophocles has conducted a Tragedy under the like delicate 
Circumstances. Orestes was in the same Condition with Ham¬ 
let in Shakespear, his Mother having murdered his Father, 
and taken Possession of his Kingdom in Conspiracy with her 
Adulterer. That young Prince therefore, being determined to 
revenge his Father’s Death upon those who filled his Throne, 
conveys himself by a beautiful Stratagem into his Mother’s 
Apartment, with a Resolution to kill her. But because such a 
Spectacle would have been too shocking for the Audience, this 
dreadful Resolution is executed behind the Scenes: The Mother 
is heard calling out to her Son for Mercy; and the Son answering 
her, that she shewed no Mercy to his Father. After which 
she shrieks out that she is wounded, and by what follows we 
find that she is slain. I do not remember that in any of our 
Plays there are Speeches made behind the Scenes, though there 
are other Instances of this Nature to be met with in those of 
the Ancients: And I beUeve my Reader will agree with me, 
that there is something infinitely more affecting in this dreadful 
Dialogue between the Mother and her Son behind the Scenes, 
than could have been in any thing transacted before the 
Audience. Orestes immediately after meets the Usurper at the 
Entrance of his Palace; and by a very happy Thought of the 
Poet avoids killing him before the Audience, by telling him 
that he should live some Time in his present Bitterness of Soul 
before he would dispatch him, and by ordering him to retire 
into that Part of the Palace where he had slain his Father, 



No, 44. Friday, April 20, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 135 

whose Murther he would revenge in the very same Place where 
it was committed. By this Means the Poet observes that De¬ 
cency, which Horace afterwards established by a Rule, of for¬ 
bearing to commit Parricides or unnatural Murthers before 
the Audience. 

Nec coram populo natos Medea trucidet. 

Let not Medea draw her murth’ring Knife, 

And spill her Children's Blood upon the Stage. 

The French have therefore refined too much upon Horace’s Rule, 
who never designed to banish all Kinds of Death from the 
Stage; but only such as had too much Horror in them, and which 
would have a better Effect upon the Audience when trans¬ 
acted behind the Scenes. I would therefore recommend to my 
Countrymen the Practice of the ancient Poets, who were very 
sparing of their publick Executions, and rather chose to per-: 
form them behind the Scenes, if it could be done with as great 
an Effect upon the Audience. At the same Time I must ob¬ 
serve, that though the devoted Persons of the Tragedy were 
seldom slain before the Audience, which has generally some¬ 
thing ridiculous in it, their Bodies were often produced after 
their Death, which hcis always in it something melancholy or 
terrifying; so that the killing on the Stage does not seem to 
have been avoided only as an Indecency, but also as an 
Improbability. 

Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet, 

Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus, 

Aut in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem. 

Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. —Hor. 

Medea must not draw her murth’ring Knife, 

Nor Atreus there his horrid Feast prepare. 

Cadmus and Progne'5 Metamorphosis, 

{She to a Swallow turn'd, he to a Snake) 

And whatsoever contradicts my Sense, 

I hate to see, and never can believe .— Ld. Roscommon. 

I have now gone through the several dramatick Inventions 
which are made use of by the ignorant Poets to supply the 
place of Tragedy, and by the skilful to improve it; some of 
wliich I could wish entirely rejected, and the rest to be used 
with Caution. It would be an endless Task to consider Comedy 
in tlie same Light, and to mention the innumerable Shifts that 
small Wits put in practice to raise a Laugh. Bullock in a short 
Coat, and Norris in a long one, seldom fail of this Effect. In 
ordinary Comedies, a broad and a narrow brim’d Hat are 
different Characters. Sometimes the Wit of the Scene hes in 
a Shoulder-Belt, and sometimes in a Pair of Whiskers. A* 



136 THE SPECTATOR No. Friday, April 20, lyii 

Lover running about the Stage, with his Head peeping out of a 
Barrel, was thought a very good jest in King Charles the 
Second's Time; and invented by one of the first Wits of that 
Age. But because Ridicule is not so delicate as Compassion, 
and because the Objects that make us laugh arc infinitely more 
numerous than those that make us weep, there is a much 
greater Latitude for comick than tragick Artifices, and by 
Consequence a much greater Indulgence to be allowed them. 

C 


No. 45. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, April 21. 

Natio comoeda est . . .—Juv. 

There is nothing which I more desire than a safe and honour¬ 
able Peace, tho’ at the same time I am very apprehensive of 
many ill Consequences that may attend it. I do not mean in 
regard to our Politicks, but to our Manners. What an In¬ 
undation of Ribbons and Brocades will break in upon us? 
What Peals of Laughter and Impertinence shall we be exposed 
to? For the Prevention of these great Evils, I could heartily 
wish that there was an Act of Parliament for Prohibiting the 
Importation of French Fopperies. 

'The Female Inhabitants of our Island have already received 
very strong Impressions from this ludicrous Nation, though 
by the Length of the War (as there is no Evil which has not 
some Good attending it) they are pretty well worn out and 
forgotten. I remember the time when some of our well-bred 
Country Women kept their Valet de Chamhre, because, forsooth, 
a Man was much more handy about them than one of their 
own Sex. I my self have seen one of these Male Abigails 
tripping about the Room with a Looking-Glass in his Hand, 
and combing his Lady's Hair a whole Morning together. 
Whether or no there was any Truth in the Story of a Lady’s 
being got with Child by one of these her Hand-maids, I cannot 
tell, but I think at present the whole Race of them is extinct 
in our own Country. 

About the time that several of our Sex were taken into this 
kind of Service, the Ladies likewise brought up the Fashion of 
receiving Visits in their Beds. It was then looked upon as a 
piece of Ill Breeding, for a Woman to refuse to .see a Man, 
because she was not stirring; and a Porter would have been 
thought unfit for his Place, that could have made so awkard 
an Excuse. As I love to see every thing that is new, I once 
prevailed upon my Friend Will. Honeycomb to carry me along 
with him to one of these Travelled Ladies, desiring him, at the 



No. 45. Saturday, April 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 137 

same time, to present me as a Foreigner who could not speak 
English, that so I might not be obliged to bear a Part in the 
Discourse. The Lady, tho’ willing to appear undrest, had put 
on her best Looks, and painted her self for our Reception. Her 
Hair appeared in a very nice Disorder, as the Night-Gown 
which was thrown upon her Shoulders, was ruffled with great 
Care. For my part, I am so shocked with every thing that 
looks immodest in the Fair Sex, that I could not forbear 
taking off my Eye from her when she moved in her Bed, and 
was in the greatest Confusion imaginable every time she stirred 
a Leg or an Arm. As the Coquets who introduced this Custom, 
grew old, they left it ofi by Degrees; well knowing that a 
Woman of Threescore may kick and tumble her Heart out, 
without making any Impressions. 

Sempronia is at present the most profest Admirer of the 
French Nation, but is so modest as to admit her Vi.sitants no 
farther than her Toilet. It is a very odd Sight that beautiful 
Creature makes, when she is talking Politicks with her Tresses 
flowing about her Shoulders, and examining that Face in the 
Glass,which does such Execution upon all the Male Standers-by. 
How prettily does she divide her Discourse between her Woman 
and her Visitants ? What sprightly Transitions does she make 
from an Opera or a Sermon, to an Ivory Comb or a Pin Cushion ? 
How have I been pleased to see her interrupted in an Account 
of her Travels, by a Message to her Footman; and holding 
her Tongue in the midst of a Moral Reflexion, by applying the 
tip of it to a Patch ? 

There is nothing which exposes a Woman to greater Dangers, 
than that Gaiety and Airiness of Temper, which are natural 
to most of the Sex. It should be therefore the Concern of 
every wise and virtuous Woman, to keep this Sprightliness 
from degenerating into Levity. On the contrary, the whole 
Discourse and Behaviour of the French is to make the Sex more 
Fantastical, or (as they are pleased to term it) more awaken’d, 
than is consistent either with Virtue or Discretion. To speak 
Loud in Publick Assemblies, to let every one hear you Talk of 
Things that should only be mentioned in Private, or in Whisper, 
are looked upon as Parts of a refined Education. At the same 
time, a Blush is unfashionable, and Silence more ill-bred than 
any thing that can be spoken. In short. Discretion and 
Modesty, which in all other Ages and Countries have been 
regarded as the greatest Ornaments of the Fair Sex, are con¬ 
sidered as the Ingredients of narrow Conversation, and Family 
Behaviour. 

Some Years ago, I was at the Tragedy of Mackheih, and un¬ 
fortunately placed my self under a Woman of Quality that is* 



138 THE SPECTATOR No. 45. Saturday, April 21, 1711 

since Dead; who, as I found by the Noise she made, was newly 
returned from France. A little before the rising of the Curtain, 
she broke out into a loud Soliloquy, When will the dear Witches 
enter? and immediately upon their first Appearance, asked a 
Lady that sate three Boxes from her, on her Right Hand, if 
those Witches were not charming Creatures. A little after, as 
Betterton was in one of the finest Speeches of the Play, she shook 
her Fan at another Lady, who sate as far on her Left Hand, and 
told her with a Whisper, that might be heard all over the Pit, 
We must not expect to see Balloon to Night. Not long after, 
calling out to a young Baronet by his Name, who sate three 
Seats before me, she asked him whether Mackbeth's Wife was 
still alive; and before he could give an Answer, fell a talking of 
the Ghost of Banquo. She had by this time formed a little 
Audience to her self, and fixed the Attention of all about her. 
But as I had a mind to hear the Play, I got out of the Sphere of 
her Impertinence, and planted ray self in one of tlie remotest 
Corners of the Pit. 

This pretty Childishness of Behaviour is one of the most 
refined Parts of Coquetry, and is not to be attained in Per¬ 
fection by Ladies that do not Travel for their Improvement. 
A natural and unconstrained Behaviour has something in it so 
agreeable, that it is no wonder to see People endeavouring after 
it. But at the same time, it is so very hard to hit, when it is 
not Born with us, that People often make themselves Ridiculous 
in attempting it. 

A very Ingenious French Author tells us, that the Ladies 
of the Court of France, in his Time, thought it ill Breeding, 
and a kind of Female Pedantry, To pronounce an hard Word 
right; for which Reason they took frequent occasion to use hard 
Words, that they might show a Politeness in murdering them. 
He further adds, that a Lady of some Quality at Court, having 
accidentally made use of an hard Word in a proper Place, and 
Pronounced it right, the whole Assembly was out of Coun¬ 
tenance for her. 

I must however be so just as to own, that there are many 
Ladies who have Travelled several thousands of Miles without 
being the worse for it, and have brought Home with them 
all the Modesty, Discretion, and good Sense, that they went 
abroad wdth. As on the contrary, there are great Numbers of 
Travelled Ladies, who have lived all their Days within the 
Smoak of London. I have known a Woman that never was 
out of the Parish of St. J-ames^s betray as many Foreign 
Fopperies in her Carriage, as she could have Gleaned up in 
half the Countries of Europe. C 



No. 46. Monday, April 23, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 139 
No. 46. 

[ADDISON,] Monday, April 23. 

Non bene junctarum discordia semina rerum. —Ovid. 

When I want Materials for this Paper, it is my Custom to go 
Abroad in quest of Game; and when I meet any proper Subject, 
I take the first Opportunity of setting down an Hint of it upon 
Paper. At the same Time I look into the Letters of my 
Correspondents, and if I find any thing suggested in them that 
may afford Matter of Speculation, I likewise enter a Minute 
of it in my Collection of Materials. By this Means I frequently 
carry about me a whole Sheet-full of Hints, that would look 
like a Rhapsody of Nonsense to any Body but my self: There 
is nothing in them but Obscurity and Confusion, Raving and 
Inconsistency. In short, they are my Speculations in the first 
Principles, that (like the World in its Chaos) are void of all 
Light, Distinction and Order. 

About a Week since there happened to me a very odd Acci¬ 
dent, by Reason of one of these my Papers of Minutes which 
I had accidentally dropped at Lloyd’s Coffee-house, where the 
Auctions are usually kept. Before I missed it, there was a 
Cluster of People who had found it, and were diverting them¬ 
selves with it at one End of the Coffee-house: It had raised so 
much Laughter among them, before I had observed what they 
were about, that I had not the Courage to own it. The Boy 
of the Coffee-house, when they had done with it, carried it 
about in his Hand, asking every Body if they had dropped a 
written Paper; but no Body challenging it, he was ordered by 
those merry Gentlemen who had before perused it, to get up 
into the Auction-Pulpit, and read it to the whole Room, that 
if any one would own it, they might. The Boy accordingly 
mounted the Pulpit, and with a very audible Voice read as 
follows. 


MINUTES. 

Sir Roger de Coverly’s Country-Seat—Yes, for I hate long 
Speeches—Query, if a good Christian may be a Conjurer— 
Childermas-day, Saltseller, House-Dog, Screech-Owl, Cricket,— 
Mr. Thomas Inkle of London, in the good Ship called the 
Achilles. Yarico—Aegrescitque medendo —Ghosts—The Lady's 
Library—Lion by Trade a Taylor—Dromedary called Buce¬ 
phalus —Equipage the Lady's summum bonum—Charles Lillie 
to be taken Notice of—Short Face a Rehef to Envy—Re¬ 
dundancies in the three Professions—King Latinus a Recruit— 
Jew devouring an Ham of Bacon— Westminster-Ahby—Grand , 



140 THE SPECTATOR No. 46. Monday, April 23, 1711 

Cairo —Procrastination— April Fools—Blue Boars, Red Lyons. 
Hogs in Armour—Enter a King and two Fidlers solus —Admis¬ 
sion into the Ugly Club—Beauty, how improveable—Families 
of true and false Humour—The Parrot’s School-Mistress— 
Face half Piet half British —No Man to be an Hero of a Tragedy 
under six Foot—Club of Sighers—Letters from Flower-Pots, 
Elbow-Chairs, Tapestry-Figures, Lion, Thunder—The Bell 
rings to the Puppet-Show—Old Woman with a Beard Married 
to a Smock-faced Boy—My next Coat to be turn’d up with 
Blue — Fable of Tongs and Gridiron — Flower Dyers — the 
Soldier’s Prayer—Thank ye for nothing, says the Gally-Pot— 
Pactolus in Stockings, with golden Clocks to them—Bamboos, 
Cudgels, Drum-sticks—Slip of my Land-lady's eldest Daughter 
—The black Mare with a Star in her Forehead—The Barber’s 
Pole —Will. Honeycomb’s Coat-Pocket— Caesar’s Behaviour 
and my own in Parallel Circumstances—Poem in Patch-work 
— Nulli gravis est percussus Achilles —The Female Conventicler 
—The Ogle-Master. 

The reading of this Paper made the whole Cofiee-house very 
merry; some of them concluded it was written by a Madman, 
and others by some Body that had been taking Notes out of 
the Spectator. One who had the Appearance of a very sub¬ 
stantial Citizen, told us, with several politick Winks and Nods, 
that he wished there was no more in the Paper than what was 
expressed in it: That for his Part, he looked upon the Drome¬ 
dary, the Gridiron, and the Barber’s Pole, to signifie something 
more than what was usually meant by those Words; and that 
he thought the Coffee-man could not do better, than to carry 
the Paper to one of the Secretaries of State. He further added, 
that he did not like the name of the outlandish Man with the 
Golden Clock in his Stockings. A young Oxford Scholar, who 
chanced to be with his Uncle at the Coffee-house, discovered 
to us who this Pactolus was; and by that Means turned the 
whole Scheme of this worthy Citizen into Ridicule. While 
they were making their several Conjectures upon tliis innocent 
Paper, I reached out my Arm to the Boy, as he was coming 
out of the Pulpit, to give it me; which he did accordingly. 
This drew the eyes of the whole Company upon me; but after 
having cast a cursory Glance over it, and shook my Head twice 
or thrice at the reading of it, I twisted it into a kmd of Match, 
and litt my Pipe with it. My profound Silence, together with 
the Steadiness of my Countenance, and the Gravity of my 
Behaviour during this whole Transaction, raised a very loud 
Laugh on all Sides of me; but as 1 had escaped all Suspicion of 
being the Author, I was very well satisfied, and applying my 



No. 46. Monday, April 23, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 141 

self to my Pipe and the Post-Man, took no further Notice of 
anything that passed about me. 

My Reader will find, that I have already made use of above 
half the Contents of the foregoing Paper; and will easily 
suppose, that those Subjects which are yet untouched, were 
such Provisions as I had made for his future Entertainment. 
But as I have been unluckily prevented by this Accident, I 
shall only give him the Letters which relate to the two last 
Hints. The first of them I should not have published, were I 
not informed that there is many an Husband who suffers very 
much in his private Affairs by the indiscreet Zeal of such a 
Partner as is hereafter mentioned; to whom I may apply the 
barbarous inscription quoted by the Bishop of Salisbury in 
his Travels; Dum nimia pia est, facia est impia. 

* Sir, 

I am one of those unhappy Men that are plagued with a 
Gospel-Gossip, so common among Dissenters (especially 
Friends). Lecture.s in the Morning, Church-Meetings at Noon, 
and Preparation-Sermons at Night, take up so much of her 
Time, 'tis very rare she knows what we have for Dinner, unless 
when the Preacher is to be at it. With him come a Tribe, all 
Brothers and Sisters it seems; while others, really such, are 
deemed no Relations. If at any time I have her Company alone, 
she is a meer Sermon Popgun, repeating and discharging Texts, 
Proofs, and Applications so perpetually, that however weary 
I may go to Bed, the Noise in my Head will not let me sleep 
till towards Morning, The Misery of my Case, and great 
Numbers of such Sufferers, plead your Pity and speedy Relief; 
otherwise must expect, in a little Time, to be lectured, preached 
and prayed into Want, unless the Happiness of being sooner 
talked to Death prevent it. 

I am, &c. 

R. G.^ 

The second Letter, relating to the Ogling Master, runs thus. 

*Mr. Spectator, 

I am an Irish Gentleman, that have travelled many Years 
for my Improvement; during which Time I have accomplished 
my self in the whole Art of Ogling, as it is at present practised 
in all the polite Nations of Europe. Being thus qualified, I 
intend, by the Advice of my Friends, to set up for an Ogling- 
Master. I teach the Church Ogle in the Morning, and the 
Play-house Ogle by Candle-light. I have also brought over 
with me a new flying Ogle fit for the Ring; which I teach in the 



142 THE SPECTATOR No, 46. Monday, April 23, 1711 

Dusk of the Evening, or in any Hour of the Day by darkning 
one of my Windows. I have a Manuscript by me called The 
compleat Ogler, which I shall be ready to shew you upon any 
Occasion: In the mean time, I beg you will publish the Sub¬ 
stance of this Letter in an Advertisement, and you will very 
much oblige, 

C Yours, &c.’ 

No. 47. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, April 24. 

Ride si sapis . . .—Mart. 

Mr. Hobbs, in his Discourse of Human Nature, which, in my 
humble Opinion, is much the best of all his Works, after some 
very curious Observations upon Laughter, concludes thus: 
'The Passion of Laughter is nothing else but sudden Glory 
arising from some sudden Conception of some Eminency in our 
selves, by Comparison with the Infirmity of others, or with our 
own formerly: For Men laugh at the Follies of themselves past, 
when they come suddenly to Remembrance, except they bring 
with them any present Dishonour.' 

According to this Author therefore, when we hear a Man 
laugh excessively, instead of saying he is very Merry, we ought 
to tell him he is very Proud. And indeed, if we look into the 
bottom of this Matter, we shall meet with many Observations 
to confirm us in his Opinion. Every one laughs at some-body 
that is in an inferior State of Folly to himself. It was formerly 
the Custom for every great House in England to keep a tame 
Fool dressed in Petticoats, that the Heir of the Family might 
have an Opportunity of joking upon him, and diverting himself 
with his Absurdities. For the same Reason Ideots are still in 
request in most of the Courts of Germany, where there is not a 
Prince of any great Magnificence who has not two or three 
dressed, distinguished, undisputed Fools in his Retinue, 
whom the rest of the Courtiers are always breaking their 
Jests upon. 

The Dutch, who are more famous for their Industry and 
Application, than for Wit and Humour, hang up in several of 
their Streets what they call the Sign of the Gaper, that is, the 
head of an Ideot dressed in a Cap and Bells, and gaping in a 
most immoderate manner: This is a standing Jest at Amsterdam. 

Thus every one diverts himself with some Person or other 
that is below him in Point of Understanding, and triumphs in 
the Superiority of his Genius, whilst he has such Objects of 



No. 47. Tuesday, April 24, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 143 

Derision before his Eyes. Mr. Dennis has very well expressed 
this in a Couple of humorous Lines, which are part of a 
Translation of a Satyr in Monsieur Boileau. 

Thus one Fool lolls his Tongue out at another. 

And shakes his empty Noddle at his Brother. 

Mr. Hobbs’s Reflection gives us the Reason why the in¬ 
significant People above-mentioned are Stirrers up of Laughter 
among Men of a gross Taste: But as the more understanding 
Part of Mankind do not find their Risibility affected by such 
ordinary Objects, it may be worth the while to examine into the 
several Provocatives of Laughter in Men of superior Sense 
and Knowledge. 

In the first Place I must observe, that there is a Sett of 
merry Drolls, whom the common People of all Countries 
admire, and seem to love so well, that they could eat them, 
according to the old Proverb; I mean those circumforaneous 
Wits whom every Nation calls by the Name of that Dish of 
Meat which it loves best. In Holland they are termed Pickled 
Herrings', in France, Jean Pottages’, in Italy, Maccaronies', and 
in Great Britain, Jack Puddings. These merry Wags, from 
whatsoever Food they receive their Titles, that they may make 
their Audiences laugh, always appear in a Fool's Coat, and 
commit such Blunders and Mistakes in every step they take, 
and every Word they utter, as those who listen to them would 
be ashamed of. 

But this little Triumph of the Understanding, under the 
Disguise of Laughter, is no where more visible than in that 
Custom which prevails every where among us on the first Day 
of the present Month, when every Body takes it in his Head to 
make as many Fools as he can. In proportion as there are 
more Follies discovered, so there is more Laughter raised on 
this Day than on any other in the whole Year. A Neighbour 
of mine, who is a Haberdasher by Trade, and a very shallow 
conceited Fellow, makes his Boasts that for these ten Years 
successively he has not made less than an hundred April 
Fools. My Landlady had a fading out with him about a 
Fortnight ago, for sending every one of her Children upon 
some Sleeveless Errand, as she terms it. Her eldest Son went 
to buy an Half-penny worth of Inkle at a Shoe-maker’s; the 
eldest Daughter was dispatched half a Mile to see a Monster; 
and in short, the whole Family of innocent Children made 
April Fools. Nay, my landlady her self did not escape him. 
This empty Fellow has laughed upon these Conceits ever since. 

This Art of Wit is well enough, when confined to one Day in 
a Twelve-month; but there is an ingenious Tribe of Men sprung ^ 



144 THE SPECTATOR No.^j. Tuesday, April 2^, lyii 

up of late Years, who are for making April Fools every Day in 
the Year. These Gentlemen are commonly distinguished b}" 
the Name of Biters', a Race of Men that are perpetually em¬ 
ployed in laughing at those Mistakes which are of their own 
Production. 

Thus we see, in proportion as one Man is more refined than 
another, he chuses his Fool out of a lower or higher Class of 
Mankind; or, to speak in a more Philosophical Language, That 
secret Elation and Pride of Heart which is generally called 
Laughter, arises in him from his comparing himself with an 
Object below him, whether it so happens that it be a Natural 
or an Artificial Fool. It is indeed very possible, that the 
Persons we laugh at may in the main of their Characters be 
much wiser Men than our selves; but if they would have us 
laugh at them, they must fall short of us in those Respects 
which stir up this Passion. 

I am afraid I shall appear too Abstracted in my Speculations, 
if I shew that when a Man of Wit makes us laugh, it is by 
betraying some Oddness or Infirmity in his own Character, or 
in the Representation which he makes of others; and that when 
we laugh at a Brute or even at an inanimate thing, it is at some 
Action or Incident that bears a remote Analogy to any Blunder 
or Absurdity in reasonable Creatures. 

But to come into common Life; I shall pass by the Con¬ 
sideration of those Stage Coxcombs that are able to shake a 
whole Audience, and take notice of a particular sort of Men 
who are such Provokers of Mirth in Conversation, that it is 
impossible for a Club or Merry-meeting to subsist without 
them; I mean, those honest Gentlemen that are always exposed 
to the Wit and Raillery of their Well-wishers and Companions; 
that are pelted by Men, Women, and Children, Friends, and 
Foes, and, in a word, stand as Butts in Conversation, for every 
one to shoot at that pleases. I know several of these Butts 
who are Men of Wit and Sense, though by some odd Turn of 
Humour, some unlucky Ca.st in their Person or Behaviour, 
they have always the Misfortune to make the Company 
merry. The Truth of it is, a Man is not qualified for a Butt, 
who has not a good deal of Wit and Vivacity, even in the 
ridiculous Side of his Character. A stupid Butt is only fit for 
the Conversation of ordinary People: Men of Wit require one 
that will give them Play, and bestir himself in the absurd 
Part of his Behaviour. A Butt with these Accomplishments 
frequently gets the Laugh of his Side, and turns the Ridicule 
upon him that attacks him. Sir John Falstaff was an Hero of 
this Species, and gives a good Description of himself in his 
Capacity of a Butt, after the following manner; Men of all sorts 



No. 47. Tuesday, April 24, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 145 

(says that merry Knight) take a Pride to gird at me. The Brain 
of Man is not able to invent any thing that tends to Laughter 
more than 1 invent, or is invented on me. I am not only Witty 
in my self, hut the Cause that Wit is in other Men. C 

No. 48. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, April 25. 

. . . Per multas aditum sibi saepe figuras 
Repperit . . .—Ovid. 

My Correspondents take it ill if I do not, from time to time, 
let them know I have received their Letters. The most 
effectual way will be to publish some of them that are upon 
important Subjects; which I shall introduce with a Letter of 
my own, that I writ a Fortnight ago to a Fraternity who 
thought fit to make me an honorary Member. 

‘To the President and Fellows of the UGLY CLUB. 

May it please your Deformities, 

I have received the Notification of the Honour you have 
done me, in admitting me into your Society. I ackiiowledge 
my Want of Merit, and for that Reason shall endeavour at all 
times to make up my own Failures, by introducing and recom¬ 
mending to the Club Persons of more undoubted Qualifications 
than I can pretend to. I shall next Week come down in the 
Stage Coach, in order to take my Seat at the Board; and shall 
bring with me a Candidate of each Sex. The Persons I shall 
present to you, are an old Beau and a modern Piet. If they 
are not so eminently gifted by Nature as our Assembly expects, 
give me Leave to say, their acquired Ugliness is greater than 
any that has ever appeared before you. The Beau has varied 
his Dress every Day of his Life for these thirty Years last past, 
and still added to the Deformity he was bom with. The Piet 
has still greater Merit towards us; and has, ever since she came 
to Years of Discretion, deserted the handsome Party, and taken 
all possible Pains to acquire the Face in which I shall present 
her to your Consideration and Favour. I am. Gentlemen, 
Your most Obliged Humble Servant, 

The Spectator. 

P. S. I desire to know whether you admit People of Quality.’ 

*Mr. Spectator, April 17. 

To shew you there are among us of the vain weak Sex, some 
that have Honesty and Fortitude enough to dare to be ugly, 
and willing to be thought so; I apply my self to you, to beg. 



146 THE SPECTA TOR No. 48. Wednesday, April 25, 1711 

your Interest and Recommendation to the Ugly Club. If my 
own Word will not be taken, (tho' in this Case a Woman's may) 
I can bring credible Witness of my Qualifications for their 
Cx>mpany, whether they insist upon Hair, Forehead, Eyes, 
Cheeks, or Chin; to which I must add, that I find it easier to 
lean to my left Side, than my Right. I hope I am in all 
Respects agreeable: And for Humour and Mirth, I '11 keep up 
to the President himself. All the Favour I '11 pretend to is, 
that as I am the first Woman has appeared desirous of good 
Company and agreeable Conversation, I may take and keep 
the upper End of the Table. And indeed I think they want a 
Carver, which I can be after as ugly a Manner as they can wish. 
I desire your Thoughts of my Claim as soon as you can. Add 
to my Features the Length of my Face, which is full half Yard; 
tho' I never knew the Reason of it till you gave one for the 
Shortness of yours. If I knew a Name ugly enough to belong 
to the above described Face, I would feign one; but, to my 
unspeakable Misfortune, my Name is the only disagreeable 
Prettiness about me; so prithee make one for me, that signifies 
all the Deformity in the World: You understand Latin, but 
be sure bring it in with my being, in the Sincerity of my 
Heart, 

Your most frightful Admirer, 

and Servant, 

Hecatissa.* 


'Mr. Spectator, 

I read your Discourse upon Affectation, and from the Remarks 
made in it examined my own Heart so strictly, that I thought 
I had found out its most secret Avenues, with a Resolution to 
be aware of you for the future. But alas! to my Sorrow I now 
understand, that I have several Follies which I do not know 
the Root of. I am an old Fellow, and extreamly troubled 
with the Gout; but having always a strong Vanity towards 
being pleasing in the Eyes of Women, I never have a Moment's 
Ease, but I am mounted in high-heel'd Shoes with a glased 
Wax-leather Instep, Two Days after a severe Fit I was 
invited to a Friend's House in the City, where I believed I 
should see Ladies; and with my usual Complaisance crippled 
my self to wait upon them: A very sumptuous Table, agree¬ 
able Company, and kind Reception, were but so many im¬ 
portunate Additions to the Torment I was in. A Gentleman of 
the Family observed my Condition; and soon after the Queen's 
Health, he, in the Presence of the whole Company, with his 
own Hands degraded me into an old Pair of his own Shoes. 
This Operation, before fine Ladies, to me (who am by Nature 



No. 48. Wednesday, April 2^, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 147 

a Coxcomb) was suffered with the same Reluctance as they 
admit the Help of Men in their greatest Extremity. The Re¬ 
turn of Ease made me forgive the rough Obligation laid upon 
me. which at that time relieved my Body from a Distemper, 
and will my mind for ever from a Folly. For the Charity 
received I return my Thanks this way. 

Your most humble Servayit/ 

* Sir, Epping, April 18. 

We have your Papers here the Morning they come out, and 
we have been very well entertained with your last, upon the 
false Ornaments of Persons who represent Heroes in a Tragedy. 
What made your Speculation come very seasonably among us 
is, that we have now at this Place a Company of Strolers, who 
are very far from offending in the impertinent Splendor of 
the Drama. They are so far from falling into these false 
Gallantries, that the Stage is here in its Original Situation of 
a Cart. Alexander the Great was acted by a Fellow in a 
Paper Cravat. The n(;xt Day, the Earl of Essex seemed to 
have no Distress but his Poverty: And my Lord Foppington the 
same Morning wanted any better Means to shew himself a 
Fop, than by wearing Stockings of different Colours. In a 
Word, tho' they have had a full Barn for many Days together, 
our Itinerants are still so wretchedly poor, that without you 
can prevail to send us the Furniture you forbid at the Play¬ 
house, the Heroes appecir only 'like sturdy Beggars, and the 
Heroins Gipsies. We have had but one Part which was per¬ 
formed and dressed with Propriety, and that was Justice 
Clodpatc: This was so well done that it offended Mr. Justice 
Overdo, who, in the midst of our whole Audience, was (like 
Quixote in the Puppet Show) so highly provoked, that he told 
them, If they would move Compassion, it should be in their 
own Persons, and not in the Characters of distressed Princes 
and Potentates: He told them. If they were so good at finding 
the way to People’s Hearts, they should do it at the End of 
Bridges or Church-Porches, in their proper Vocation of Beggars. 
This, the Justice says, they must expect, since they could not 
be contented to act Heathen Warriors, and such Fellows as 
A lexander, but must presume to make a Mockery of one of the 
Quorum, 

R Your Servant.' 



148 THE SPECTATOR No. 49. Thursday, April 26, 1711 
No. 49. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, April 26. 

. . . Hominem pagina nostra sapit. —Mart. 

It is very natural for a Man, who is not turned for Mirthful 
Meetings of Men, or Assemblies of the fair Sex, to delight in 
that sort of Conversation which we find in Coffee-houses. 
Here a Man, of my Temper, is in his Element; for, if he cannot 
talk, he can still be more agreeable to his Company, as well as 
pleased in himself, in being only an Hearer. It is a Secret 
known but to few, yet of no small use in the Conduct of Life, 
that when you fall into a Man's Conversation, the first thing 
you should consider is, whether he has a greater Inclination 
to hear you, or that you should hear him. The latter is the 
more general Desire, and I know very able Flatterers that never 
speak a Word in Praise of the Persons from whom they obtain 
daily Favours, but still practise a skilful Attention to whatever 
is uttered by those with whom they converse. We are very 
Curious to observe the Behaviour of Great Men and their 
Clients; but the same Passions and Interests move Men in 
lower Spheres; and I (that have nothing else to do, but make 
Observations) see in every Parish, Street, Lane, and Alley of 
this Populous City, a little Potentate that has his Court, and 
his Flatterers who lay Snares for his Affection and Favour, 
by the same Arts that are practised upon Men in higher 
Stations. 

In the Place I most usually frequent, Men differ rather in 
the Time of Day in which they make a Figure, than in any 
real Greatness above one another. I, who am at the Coffee¬ 
house at Six in a Morning, know that my Friend Beaver the 
Haberdasher has a Levy of more undisscmbled Friends and 
Admirers, than most of the Courtiers or Generals of Great 
Britain. Every Man about him has, perhaps, a News-Paper 
in his Hand; but none can pretend to guess what Step will be 
taken in any one Court of Europe, 'till Mr. Beaver has thrown 
down his Pipe, and declares what Measures the Allies must 
enter into upon this new Posture of Affairs. Our Coffee-house 
is near one of the Inns of Court, and Beaver has the Audience 
and Admiration of his Neighbours from Six 'till within a 
Quarter of Eight, at which time he is interrupted by the 
Students of the House; some of whom are ready dress’d for 
Westminster, at eight in a Morning, with Faces as busie as if 
they were retained in every Cause there; and others come in 
their Night-Gowns to saunter away their Time, as if they 
never designed to go thither. I do not know that I meet, in 
any of my Walks, Objects which move both my Spleen and 



No. 49* Thursday, April 26,1711 THE SPECTATOR 149 

Laughter so effectually, as those Young Fellows at the Grecian, 
Squire'Searle’s, and all other Coffee-houses adjacent to the 
Law, who rise early for no other Purpose but to publish their 
Laziness. One would think these young Virtuosos take a 
gay Cap and Slippers, with a Scarf and Party-coloured Gown, 
to be Ensigns of Dignity; for the vain Things approach each 
other with an Air, which shews they regard one another^for 
their Vestments. I have observed, that the Superiority among 
these proceeds from an Opinion of Gallantry and Fashion; 
The Gentleman in the Strawberry Sash, who presides so much 
over the re.st, has, it seems, subscribed to every Opera this last 
Winter, and is supposed to receive Favours from one of the 
Actresses. 

When the Day grows too busie for these Gentlemen to enjoy 
any longer the Pleasures of their Deshabild, with any manner of 
Confidence, they give place to Men who have Business or good 
Sense in their Faces, and come to the Coffee-house either to 
transact Affairs, or enjoy Conversation. The Persons to whose 
Behaviour and Discourse I have most regard, are such as are 
between these two sorts of Men: Such as have not Spirits too 
Active to be happy and well pleased in a private Condition, 
nor Complexions too warm to make them neglect the Duties 
and Relations of Life. Of these sort of Men consist the 
worthier Part of Mankind; of these are all good Fathers, 
generous Brothers, sincere Friends, and faithful Subjects. 
Their Entertainments are derived rather from Reason than 
Imagination: Which is the Cause that there is no Impatience or 
Instability in their Speech or Action. You see in their Coun¬ 
tenances they are at home, and in quiet Possession of the 
present Instant, as it passes, without desiring to quicken it by 
gratifying any Passion, or prosecuting any new Design. These 
are the Men formed for Society, and those little Communities 
which we express by the Word Neighbourhoods. 

The Coffee-house is the Place of Rendezvous to all that live 
near it, who are thus turned to relish calm and ordinary Life. 
Eubulus presides over the middle Hours of the Day, when this 
Assembly of Men meet together. He enjoys a great Fortune 
handsomely, without launching into Expence; and exerts many 
noble and useful Qualities, without appearing in any publick 
Emplo5ment. His Wisdom and Knowledge are serviceable to 
all that think fit to make u.se of them; and he does the Office 
of a Council, a Judge, an Executor, and a Friend to all his 
Acquaintance, not only without the Profits which attend such 
Offices, but also without the Deference and Homage which are 
usually paid to them. The giving of Thanks is displeasing to 
him. The greatest Gratitude you can shew him, is to let him • 



150 THE SPECTATOR No. 49. Thursday, April 26, 1711 

see you are the better Man for his Services; and that you are 
as ready to oblige others, as he is to oblige you. 

In the private Exigencies of his Friends he lends, at legal 
Value, considerable Sums, which he might highly increase by 
rolling in the Publick Stocks. He does not consider in whose 
Hands his Mony will improve most, but where it will do 
most Good. 

Eubulus has so great an Authority in his little Diurnal 
Audience, that when he shakes his Head at any Piece of 
Publick News, they all of them appear dejected; and on the 
contrary, go home to their Dinners with a good Stomach and 
chearful Aspect, when Eubulus seems to intimate that Things 
go well. Nay, their Veneration towards him is so great, that 
when they are in other Company they speak and act after him; 
are Wise in his Sentences, and are no sooner sate down at their 
own Tables, but they hope or fear, rejoice or despond as they 
saw him do at the Coffee-house. In a word, every Man is 
Eubulus as soon as his Back is turned. 

Having here given an Account of the several Reigns that 
succeed each other from Day-break 'till Dinner-time, I shall 
mention the Monarchs of the Afternoon on another occasion, 
and shut up the whole Series of them with the History of Tom 
the Tyrant; who, as first Minister of the Coffee-house, takes 
the Government upon him between the Hours of Eleven and 
Twelve at Night, and gives his Orders in the most Arbitrary 
manner to the Servants below him, as to the Disposition of 
Liquors, Coal and Cinders. R 


No. 50. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, April 27. 

Nunquam aliud natura, aliud sapientia dicit. —Juv. 

When the four Indian Kings were in this Country about a 
Twelvemonth ago, I often mixed with the Rabble, and followed 
them a whole Day together, being wonderfully struck with the 
Sight of every thing that is new or uncommon. I have, since 
their Departure, employed a Friend to make many Enquiries of 
their Landlord the Upholsterer, relating to their Manners and 
Conversation, as also concerning the Remarks which they made 
in this Country: For, next to the forming a right Notion of 
such Strangers, I should be desirous of learning what Ideas 
they have conceived of us. ' 

The Upholsterer finding my Friend very inquisitive about 
these his Lodgers, brought him some time since a little Bundle 
of Papers, which he assured him were written by King Sa Ga 



No. ^o. Friday, April ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 151 

Yean Qua Rash Tow, and, as he supposes, left behind by some 
Mistake. These Papers are now translated, and contain 
abundance of very odd Observations, which I find this little 
Fraternity of Kings made during their Stay in the Isle of Great 
Britain. I shall present my Reader with a short Specimen of 
them in this Paper, and may, perhaps, communicate more to 
him hereafter. In the Article of London are the following 
Words, which without doubt are meant of the Church of 
St. Paul. 

"On the most rising Part of the Town there stands a huge 
House, big enough to contain the whole Nation of which I am 
King. Our good Brother E Tow O Koam, King of the Rivers, 
is of Opinion it was made by the Hands of that great God to 
whom it is consecrated. The Kings of Granajah and of the 
Six Nations believe that it was created with the Earth, and 
produced on the same Day with the Sun and Moon. But for 
my own Part, by the best Information that I could get of this 
Matter, I am apt to think that this prodigious Pile was fashioned 
into the Shape it now bears by several Tools and Instruments 
of which they have a wonderful Variety in this Country. It was 
probably at first an huge mis-shapen Rock that grew upon the 
Top of the Hill, which the Natives of the Country (after having 
cut it into a kind of regular Figure) bored and hollowed with 
incredible Pains and Industry, till they had wrought in it all 
those beautiful Vaults and Caverns into which it is divided 
at this Day. As soon as this Rock was thus curiously scooped 
to their Liking, a prodigious Number of Hands must have been 
employed in chipping the Outside of it, which is now as smooth 
as the Surface of a Pebble; and is in several Places hewn out 
into Pillars that stand like the Trunks of so many Trees bound 
about the Top with Garlands of Leaves. It is probable that 
when this great Work was begun, which must have been many 
Hundred Years ago, there was some Religion among this 
People; for they give it the Name of a Temple, and have a 
Tradition that it was designed for Men to pay their Devotions 
in. And indeed, there are several Reasons which make us 
think, that the Natives of this Country had formerly among 
them some sort of Worship; for they set apart every seventh 
Day as sacred: But upon my going into one of these holy 
Houses on that Day, I could not observe any Circumstance of 
Devotion in their Behaviour; There was indeed a Man in 
Black who was mounted above the rest, and seemed to utter 
something with a great deal of Vehemence; but as for those 
underneath him, instead of paying their Worship to the Deity 
of the Place, they were most of them bowing and curtsying to 
one another, and a considerable Number of them fast asleep. 

I—F 



152 THE SPECTATOR No. 50. Friday, April 27, lyii 

The Queen of the Country appointed two Men to attend us, 
that had enough of our Language to make themselves under¬ 
stood in some few Particulars. But we soon perceived these 
two were great Enemies to one another, and did not always 
agree in the same Story. We could make a Shift to gather out 
of one of them, that this Island was very much infested with a 
monstrous Kind of Animals, in the Shape of Men, called Whigs ] 
and he often told us, that he hoped we should meet with none 
of them in our Way, for that if we did, they would be apt to 
knock us down for being Kings. 

Our other Interpreter used to talk very much of a kind of 
Animal called a Tory, that was as great a Monster as the Whig, 
and would treat us as ill for being Foreigners. These two 
Creatures, it seems, are born with a secret Antipathy to one 
another, and engage when they meet as naturally as the 
Elephant and the Rhinoceros. But as we saw none of either 
of these Species, we are apt to think that our Guides deceived 
us with Misrepresentations and Fictions, and amu.sed us with 
an Account of such Monsters as are not really in their 
Country. 

These Particulars we made a Shift to pick out from the 
Discourse of our Interpreters; which we put together as well 
as we could, being able to understand but here and there a 
Word of what they said, and afterwards making up the meaning 
of it among ourselves. The Men of the Country are very cun¬ 
ning and ingenious in handicraft Works, but withal so very 
idle, that we often saw y<mng lusty raw-boned Fellows carried 
up and down the Streets in little covered Rooms by a Couple 
of Porters, who are hired for that Service. Their Dress is 
likewise very barbarous, for they almost strangle themselves 
about the Neck, and bind their Bodies with many Ligatures, 
that we are apt to think are the Occasion of several Distempers 
among them which our Country is entirely free from. Instead 
of those beautiful Feathers with which we adorn our Heads, 
they often buy up a monstrous Bush of Hair, which covers 
their Heads, and falls down in a large Fleece below the Middle 
of their Backs; with which they walk up and down the Streets, 
and are as proud of it as if it was of their own Growth. 

We were invited to one of their publick Diversions, where 
we hoped to have seen the great Men of their Country running 
down a Stag or pitching a Bar, that we might have discovered 
who were the Persons of the greatest Abilities among them; 
but instead of that they conveyed us into a huge Room lighted 
up with abundance of Candles, where this lazy People sate 
still above three Hours to see several Feats of Ingenuity per¬ 
formed by others, who it seems were paid for it. 



No. 50. Friday, April 27, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 153 

As for the Women of the Country, not being able to talk 
with them, we could only make our Remarks upon them at a 
Distance. They let th(^ Hair of their Heads grow to a great 
Length; but as the Men make a great Show with Heads of 
Hair that are none of their own, the Women, who they say 
have very fine Heads of Hair, tie it up in a Knot, and cover it 
from being seen. The Women look like Angels, and would be 
more beautiful than the Sun, were it not for little black Spots 
that are apt to break out in their Faces, and sometimes 
rise in very odd Figures. I have observed that those little 
Blemishes wear off very soon; but when they disappear in one 
Part of the Face, they are very apt to break out in another, 
insomuch that I have seen a Spot upon the Forehead in the 
Afternoon, which was upon the Chin in the Morning.' 

The Author then proceeds to shew the Absurdity of Breeches 
and Petticoats, with many other curious Observations, which 
I shall reserve for another Occasion. I cannot however con¬ 
clude this Paper without taking notice, That amidst these wild 
Remarks there now and then appears something very reason¬ 
able. I cannot likewise forbear observing, That we are all 
guilty in some measure of the same narrow way of Thinking, 
which we meet with in this Abstract of the Indian Journal 
when we fancy the Customs, Dresses, and Manners of other 
Countries arc ridiculous and extravagant, if they do not 
resemble those of our own. C 


No. 51, 

[STEELE.] Saturday, April 28. 

Torquet ah obscenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem. —Hor. 

’Mr. Spectator, 

My Fortune, Quality, and Person arc such, as render me as 
conspicuous as any young Woman in Town. It is in my Power 
to enjoy it in all its Vanities; but I have, from a very careful 
Education, contracted a great Aversion to the forward Air and 
Fashion which is practised in all Publick Places and Assemblies. 
I attribute this very much to the Stile and Manners of our 
Plays: I was last Night at the Funeral, where a Confident Lover 

in the Play, spealdng of his Mistress, Cries out- Oh that 

Harriot 1 To fold these Arms about the Waste of that beauteous, 
strugling, and at last yielding Fair I Such an Image as this ought, 
by no means, to be presented to a Chaste and Regular Audience. 

I expect your Opinion of this Sentence, and recommend to your* 



154 THE SPECTATOR No. 51. Saturday, April 2S, 17u 

Consideration, as a Spectator, the Conduct of the Stage at 
present, with Relation to Chastity and Modesty. 

/ am, Sir, 

Your Constant Reader, 

and Well-wisher.* 

The Complaint of this Young Lady is so just, that the 
Offence is gross enough to have displeased Persons who cannot 
pretend to that Delicacy and Modesty, of which she is Mistress. 
But there is a great deal to be said in Behalf of an Author: If 
the Audience would but consider the Difficulty of keeping up 
a sprightly Dialogue for five Acts together, they would allow 
a Writer, when he wants Wit, and can’t please any otherwise, 
to help it out with a little Smuttincss. I will answer for the 
Poets, that no one ever writ Bawdry for any other Reason but 
Dearth of Invention. When the Author cannot strike out of 
himself any more of that which he has superior to those who 
make up the Bulk of his Audience, his natural Recourse is to 
that which he has in common with them; and a Description 
which gratifies a sensual Appetite will please, when the Author 
has nothing about him to delight a refined Imagination. It is 
to such a Poverty we must impute this and all other Sentences 
in Plays, which are of this ^nd, .and which are commonly 
termed Luscious Expressions. 

This Expedient, to supply the Deficiencies of Wit, has been 
used, more or less, by most of the Authors who have succeeded 
on the Stage; tho' I know but one who has professedly writ a 
Play upon the Basis of the Desire of Multiplying our Species, 
and that is the Polite Sir George Etherege; if I understand what 
the Lady would be at, in the Play called She would if she could. 
Other Poets have, here and there, given an Intimation that 
there is this Design, under all the Disguises and Affectations 
which a Lady may put on; but no Author, except this, has made 
sure Work of it, and put the Imaginations of the Audience upon 
this one Purpose, from the Beginning to the End of the Comedy. 
It has always fared accordingly; for whether it be, that all who 
go to this Piece would if they could, or that the Innocents go 
to it, to guess only what She would if she could, the Play has 
always been well received. 

It lifts an heavy, empty Sentence, when there is added to it 
a lascivious Gesture of Body; and when it is too low to be 
raised even by that, a flat Meaning is enlivened by making it a 
double one. Writers, who want Genius, never fail of keeping 
this Secret in reserve, to create a Laugh, or raise a Clap. I, 
who know nothing of Women but from seeing Plays, can give 
great guesses at the whole Structure of the fair Sex, by being 



No. 51. Saturday, April 28, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 155 

innocently placed in the Pit, and insulted by the Petticoats of 
their Dancers; the Advantages of whose pretty Persons are a 
great help to a dull Play. When a Poet flags in writing Lus¬ 
ciously, a pretty Girl can move Lasciviously, and have the same 
good Consequence foi the Author. Dull Poets in this Case use 
their Audiences, as dull Parasites do their Patrons; when they 
cannot longer divert them with their Wit or Humour, they 
bait their Ears with something which is agreeable to their 
Temper, though below their Understanding. Apicius cannot 
resist being pleased, if you give him an Account of a delicious 
Meal: or Clodius, if you describe a wanton Beauty: Tho' at the 
same time, if you do not awake those Inclinations in them, no 
Men are better Judges of what is just and delicate in Conversa¬ 
tion. But, as I have before observed, it is easier to talk to the 
Man, than to the Man of Sense. 

It is remarkable, that the writers of least Learning are best 
skill'd in the luscious Way. The Poetesses of the Age have 
done Wonders in this kind; and we are obliged to the Lady who 
writ Ibrahim, for introducing a preparatory Scene to the very 
Action, when the Emperor throws his Handkerchief as a Signal 
for his Mistress to follow him into the most retired Part of 
the Seraglio. It must be confessed his Turkish Majesty went 
off with a good Air, but, methought, we made but a sad 
Figure who waited without. This Ingenious Gentlewoman, 
in this piece of Bawdry, refined upon an Author of the same 
Sex, who, in the Rover, makes a Country Squire strip to his 
Holland Drawers. For Blunt is disappointed, and the Emperor 
is understood to go on to the utmost. The Pleasantry of 
Stripping almost Naked has been since practised (where 
indeed it should have begun) very successfully at Bartholomew 
Fair. 

It is not here to be omitted, that in one of the above- 
mentioned Female Compositions, the Rover is very frequently 
sent on the same Errand; as I take it, above once every Act. 
This is not wholly unnatural; for, they say, the Men-Authors 
draw themselves in their chief Characters, and the Women- 
Writers may be allowed the same Liberty. Thus, as the Male 
Wit gives his Hero a good Fortune, the Female gives her 
Heroin a good Gallant, at the End of the Play. But, indeed, 
there is hardly a Play one can go to, but the Hero or fine 
Gentleman of it struts off upon the same account, and leaves 
us to consider what good Office he has put us to, or to employ 
our selves as we please. To be plain, a Man who frequents 
Plays, would have a very respectful Notion of himself, were he 
to recollect how often he has been used as a Pimp to ravishing 
Tyrants, or successful Rakes. When the Actors make their 



156 THE SPECTATOR No. 51. Saturday, April 28, 1711 

Exit on this good Occasion, the Ladies are sure to have an 
examining Glance from th(j Pit, to see how they relish what 
passes; and a few lewd Fools are very ready to employ their 
Talents upon the Composure or Freedom of their Looks. 
Such Incidents as these make some Ladies wholly absent them¬ 
selves from the Play-house; and others never miss the first 
Day of a Play, lest it should prove too luscious to admit their 
going with any Countenance to it on the Second. 

If Men of Wit, who think fit to write for the Stage, instead 
of this pitiful way of giving Delight, would turn their Thoughts 
upon raising it from good natural Impulses as are in the Audi¬ 
ence, but are choaked up by Vice and Luxury, they would not 
only please, but befriend us at the same time. If a Man had a 
mind to be new in his way of Writing, might not he who is 
now represented as a fine Gentleman, tho’ he betrays the 
Honour and Bed of his Neighbour and Friend, and lies with 
half the Women in the Play, and is at last rewarded with her 
of the best Character in it; I say, upon giving the Comedy 
another Cast, might not such a one divert the Audience quite 
as well, if at the Catastrophe he were found out for a Traytor, 
and met with Contempt accordingly? There is seldom a 
Person devoted to above one Darling Vice at a time, so that 
there is room enough to catch at Men's Hearts to their Good and 
Advantage, if the Poets will attempt it with the Honesty which 
becomes their Characters. 

There is no Man who loves his Bottle or his Mistress, in a 
manner so very abandoned as not to be capable of relishing 
an agreeable Character, that is no way a Slave to either of 
those Pursuits. A Man that is Temperate, Generous, Valiant, 
Chaste, Faithful and Hom^st, may, at the same time, have 
Wit, Humour, Mirth, good Breeding, and Gallantry. While he 
exerts these latter Qualities, twenty Occasions might be in¬ 
vented to shew he is Master of the other noble Virtues. Such 
Characters would smite and reprove the Heart of a Man of 
Sense, when he is given up to his Pleasures. He would see 
he has been mistaken all this while, and be convinced that a 
sound Constitution and an innocent Mind are the true In¬ 
gredients for becoming and enjoying Life. All Men of true 
Taste would call a Man of Wit, who should turn his Ambition 
this way, a Friend and Benefactor to his Country: but I am at 
a loss what Name they would give him, who makes use of his 
Capacity for ccjiitrary Purposes. R 



No. 52. Monday, April 30, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 157 
No. 52. 

[STEELE.] Monday, April 30. 

Otnnes ut tecum meritis pro talibus annos 

Exigat, (S' pulchra facial te prole parentem. —Virg. 

An ingenious Correspondent, like a sprightly Wife, will always 
have the last Word. I did not think my last Letter to the 
deformed Fraternity would have occasioned any Answer, 
especially since I had promised them so sudden a Visit; But 
as they think they cannot shew too great a Veneration for my 
Person, they have already sent me up an Answer. As to the 
Proposal of a Marriage between my self and the matchless 
Hecaiissa, I have but one Objection to it; which is. That all the 
Society will expect to be acquainted with her; and who can 
be sure of keeping a Woman's Heart long, where she may have 
so much Choice ? I am the more alarmed at tliis, because the 
Lady seems particularly smitten with Men of their Make. 

I believe I shall set my Heart upon her; and think never the 
worse of my Mistress for an Epigram a smart Fellow writ, as 
he thought, against her; it does but the more recommend her 
to me. At the same time I cannot but discover that his 
Malice is stolen from Martial. 

Tacta places, audita places, si non videare, 

Tola places: neutro, si videare, places. 

Whilst in the Dark on thy soft Hand I hung. 

And heard the tempting Syren in thy Tongue, 

What Flames, what Darts, what Anguish I endur'd? 

Bui when the Candle enter’d I was cur’d. 

‘Your Letter to us we have received, as a signal Mark of 
your Favour and brotherly Affection. We shall be heartily 
glad to see your short Face in Oxford : And since the Wisdom 
of our Legislature has been immortalized in your Speculations, 
and our personal Deformities in some sort by you recorded to 
all Posterity; we hold our selves in Gratitude bound to receive, 
with the highest Respect, all such Persons as for their extra¬ 
ordinary Merit you shall think fit, from Time to Time, to 
recommend unto the Board. As for the Pictish Damsel, we 
have an easie Chair prepared at the upper End of the Table; 
which we doubt not but she will grace with a very hideous 
Aspect, and much better become the Seat in the native and 
unaffected Uncomehness of her Person, than with all the 
superficial Airs of the Pencil, wliich (as you have very in¬ 
geniously cfbserved) vanish with a Breath; and the most 
innocent Adorer may deface the Shrine with a Salutation, and, 



158 THE SPECTATOR No. $2. Monday, April ^o, ly 11 

in the literal Sense of our Poets, snatch and imprint his balmy 
Kisses, and devour her melting Lips: In short, the only Faces 
of the Pictish Kind that will endure the Weather, must be of 
Dr. Carbuncle’s Die; though his, in truth, has cost him a World 
the Painting; but then he boasts with Zeuxis, In eternitatem 
pingo] and oft jocosely tells the Fair Ones, Would they acquire 
Colours that would stand kissing, they must no longer Paint 
but Drink for a Complexion: A Maxim that in this our Age 
has been pursued with no ill Success; and has been as admirable 
in its Effects, as the famous Cosmetick mentioned in the 
Post-Man, and invented by the renowned British Hippocrates 
of the Pestle and Mortar; making the Party, after a due Course, 
rosie, hale, and airy; and the best and most approved Receipt 
now extant for the Fever of the Spirits. But to return to our 
female Candidate, who, I understand, is returned to her self, 
and will no longer hang out false Colours; as she is the first 
of her Sex that has done us so great an Honour, she will 
certainly, in a very short time, both in Prose and Verse, be a 
Lady of the most celebrated Deformity now living; and meet 
with Admirers here as frightful as her self. But being a long¬ 
headed Gentlewoman, I am apt to imagine she has some further 
Design than you have yet penetrated; and perhaps has more 
Mind to the Spectator than any of his Fraternity, as the Per¬ 
son of all the World she could like for a Paramour: And if so, 
really I cannot but applaud her Choice; and should be glad, 
if it might lie in my Power, to effect an amicable Accommoda¬ 
tion betwixt two Faces of such different Extremes, as the only 
possible Expedient, to mend the Breed, and rectilie the 
Physiognomy of the Family on both Sides. And again, as 
she is a Lady of a very fluent Elocution, you need not fear 
that your first Child will be born dumb, which otherwise you 
might have some Reason to be apprehensive of. To be plain 
with you, I can see nothing shocking in it; for though she has 
not a Face like a John-Apple, yet as a late Friend of mine, who 
at Sixty five ventured on a Lass of Fifteen, very frequently, in 
the remaining Five Years of his Life, gave me to understand. 
That, as old as he then seemed, when they were first married 
he and his Spouse could make but Fourscore; so may Madam 
Hecatissa very justly alledge hereafter. That, as long visaged 
as she may then be thought, upon their Wedding-day Mr. 
Spectator and she had but Half an Ell of Face betwixt them: 
And this my very worthy Predecessor, Mr. Sergeant Chin, 
always maintained to be no more than the true oval Propor¬ 
tion between Man and Wife. * But as this may be a new thing 
to you, who have hitherto had no Expectations from Women, 
I shall allow you what Time you think fit to consider on it; not 



No. 52. Monday, April 30, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 159 

without some Hope of seeing at last your Thoughts hereupon 
subjoined to mine, and which is an Honour much desired by, 
Sir, 

Your assured Friend, 

and most humble Servant, 

Hugh Goblin, Praescs.* 

The following Letter has not much in it, but as it is written 
in my own Praise I cannot from my Heart suppress it. 

‘ Sir, 

You proposed in your Spectator of last Tuesday Mr. 
Hobbs's Hypothesis, for solving that very odd Phaenomenon of 
Laughter. You have made the Hypothesis valuable by espous¬ 
ing it your self; for had it continued Mr. Hobbs’s, no Body 
would have minded it. Now here this perplexed Case arises. 
A certain Company laughed verv heartily upon the Reading of 
that very Paper of yours: And the Truth on it is, he must be a 
Man of more than ordinary Constancy that could stand it out 
against so much Comedy, and not do as we did. Now there 
are few Men in the World so far lost to all good Sense, as to 
look upon you to be a Man in a State of Folly inferior to himself. 
Pray then, how do you justify your Hypothesis of Laughter ? 
Thursday, the 20th of Your most humble, 

the Month 0/Fools. Q. R/ 

'Sir, 

In answer to your Letter, I must desire you to recollect 
your self; and you will find, that when you did me the Honour 
to be so merry over my Paper, you laughed at the Idiot, the 
German Courtier, the Gaper, the Merry-Andrew, the Haber¬ 
dasher, the Biter, the Butt, and not at 

Your humble Servant, 

The Spectator.’ 

No. 53. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, May i. 

. . . Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. —Hor. 

My Correspondents grow so numerous, that I cannot avoid 
frequently inserting their Applications to me. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I am glad I can inform you, that your Endeavours to adorn 
that Sex, which is the fairest Part of the visible Creation, are 
well received, and like to prove not unsuccessful. The 
Triumph of Daphne over her Sister Letitia has been the Subject 



i6o THE SPECTATOR No. 5^. Tuesday, May 1, ly 11 

of Conversation at several Tea-Tables where I have been 
present; and I have observed the fair Circle not a little pleased 
to find you considering them as reasonable Creatures, and 
endeavouring to banish th<it Mahometan Custom, which had too 
much prevailed even in this Island, of treating Women as if 
they had no Souls. I must do them the Justice to say, that 
there seems to be nothing wanting to the finishing of these 
lovely Pieces of human Nature, besides the turning and 
applying their Ambition properly, and the keeping them up to 
a Sense of what is their true Merit. Epictetus, that plain honest 
Philosopher, as little as he had of Gallantry, appears to have 
understood them, as well as the polite St. Evremont, and has 
hit this Point very luckily. When Young Women, says he, 
arrive at a certain Age, they hear themselves called Mistre.sscs, 
and are made to believe that their only Business is to please the 
Men; they immediately begin to Dress, and place all their Hopes 
in the adorning of their Persons: it is therefore, continues he, 
worth the while to endeavour by all Means to make them sensible, 
that the Honour paid to them is only upon Account of their con¬ 
ducting themselves with Virtue, Modesty, and Discretion. 

Now to pursue the Matter yet further, and to render your 
Cares for the Improvement of the Fair Ones more effectual, 
1 would propose a new Method, like those Applications which 
are said to convey their Virtue by Sympathy; and that is, 
that in order to embellish the Mistress, you should give a new 
Education to the Lover, and teach the Men not to be any longer 
dazled by false Charms and unreal Beauty. I cannot but think 
that if our Sex knew always how to place their Esteem justly, 
the other would not be so often wanting to themselves in 
deserving it. For as the being enamoured with a Woman of 
Sense and Virtue is an Improvement to a Man's Understanding 
and Morals, and the l^assion is ennobled by the Object which 
inspires it; so on the other side, the appearing amiable to a 
Man of a wise and elegant Mind, carries in it self no small 
Degree of Merit and Accomplishment. I conclude therefore, 
that one way to make the Women yet more agreeable is, to 
make the Men more virtuous. 

I am, Sir, 

Your most Humble Servant, 

R. B.’ 

'Sir, April 26. 

Yours of Saturday last I read, not without some Resentment; 
but I will suppose when you say you expect an Inundation of 
Ribbons and Brocades, and to see many new Vanities which 
the Women will fall into upon a Peace with France, that you 



No. 53. Tuesday, May i, lyn THE SPECTATOR i6i 

intend only the unthinking Part of our Sex; And what Methods 
can reduce them to Reason is hard to imagine. 

But, Sir, there are others yet that your Instructions might 
be of great Use to, who, after their best Endeavours, are 
sometimes at a Loss to acquit themselves to a Censorious World: 
I am far from thinking you can altogether disapprove of 
Conversation between Ladies and Gentlemen, regulated by 
the Rules of Honour and Prudence; and have thought it an 
Observation not ill made, that where tliat was wholly denied, 
the Women lost their Wit, and the Men their good Manners. 
'Tis sure, fnun those improper Liberties you mentioned, that 
a sort of undistinguishing People shall banish from their Draw¬ 
ing-Rooms the best bred Men in the World, and condemn those 
that do not. Your stating this Point might, I think, be of 
good use, as well as much oblige. 

Sir, 

Your Admirer, and 

Most Humble Servant, 

ANNA BELLA.' 

No Answer to this, ’till Anna Bella sends a Description of those 
she calls the Best bred Men in the World. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I am a Gentleman who for many Years last past have been 
well known to be truly Splenatick, and that my Spleen arises 
from having contracted so great a Delicacy, by reading the 
best Authors, and keeping the most refined Company, that 
I cannot bear the least Impropriety of Language, or Rusticity 
of Behaviour. Now, Sir, I have ever looked upon this as a 
wise Distemper; but by late Observations find that every 
heavy Wretch, who has nothing to say, excuses his Dulness by 
complaining of the Spleen. Nay, I saw, the other Day, two 
Fellows in a Tavern Kitchen set up for it, call for a Pint and 
Pipes, and only by Guzling Liquor to each other’s Health, and 
wasting Smoak in each other’s Face, pretend to throw off the 
Spleen. I appeal to you, whether these Dishonours are to be 
done to the Distemper of the Great and the Polite. I beseech 
you. Sir, to inform these Fellows that they have not the 
Spleen, because they cannot talk without the help of a Glass 
at their Mouths, or convey their Meaning to each other without 
the Interposition of Clouds. If you will not do this with all 
speed, I a.ssure you, for my part, I will wholly quit the Disease, 
and for the future be merry with the Vulgar. 

I am. Sir, 


Your Humble Servant.* 



162 THE SPECTATOR No. 53. Tuesday, May 1, 1711 
' Sir, 

This is to let you understand, that I am a reformed Starer, 
and conceived a Detestation for that Practice from what 
you have writ upon the Subject. But as you have been very 
severe upon the Behaviour of us Men at Divine Service, I hope 
you will not be so apparently partial to the Women, as to let 
them go wholly unobserved. If they do every thing that is 
possible to attract our Eyes, are we more culpable than they, 
for looking at them ? I happened last Sunday to be shut into 
a Pew, which was full of young Ladies in the Bloom of Youth 
and Beauty. When the Service began, I had not Room to 
kneel at the Confession, but as I stood kept my Eyes from 
wandring as well as I was able, till one of the young Ladies, 
who is a Peeper, resolved to bring down my Looks, and fix 
my Devotion on her self. You are to know. Sir, that a Peeper 
works with her Hands, Eyes, and Fan; one of which is con¬ 
tinually in motion, while she thinks she is not actually the 
Admiration of some Oglcr or Starer in the Congregation. As 
I stood utterly at a loss how to behave my self, surrounded as 
I was, this Peeper so placed herself as to be kneeling just before 
me. She displayed the most beautiful Bosom imaginable, 
which heaved and fell with some Fervour, while a delicate 
well-shaped Ann held a Fan over her Face. It was not in 
Nature to command one’s Eyes from this Object. I could not 
avoid taking notice also of her Fan, which had on it various 
Figures, very improper to behold on that occasion. There lay 
in the Body of the Piece a Venus, under a Purple Canopy 
furled with curious Wreaths of Drapery, half naked, attended 
with a Train of Cupids, who were busied in Fanning her as she 
slept. Behind her was drawn a Satyr peeping over the silken 
Fence, and threatening to break through it. I frequently 
offered to turn my Sight another way, but was still detained 
by the Fascination of the Peeper’s Eyes, who had long practised 
a Skill in them, to rccal the parting Glances of her Beholders. 
You see my Complaint, and hope you will take these mischievous 
People, the Peepers, into your Consideration: I doubt not but 
you will think a Peeper as much more pernicious than a Starer, 
as an Ambuscade is more to be feared than an open Assault. 
/ am. Sir, 

Your most Obedient Servant.* 

This Peeper using both Fan and Eyes to be considered as a Piet, 
and proceed accordingly. 

' King Latinus to the Spectator, Greeting. 

Though some may think we descend from our Imperial 



No. 53. Tuesday, May i, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 163 

Dignity, in holding Correspondence with a private Litterato\ 
yet as we have great Respect to all good Intentions for our 
Service, we do not esteem it beneath us to return you our Royal 
Thanks for what you published in our Behalf, while under 
Confinement in the inchanted Castle of the Savoy, and for your 
Mention of a Subsidy for a Prince in Misfortune. This your 
timely Zeal has inclined the Hearts of divers to be aiding unto 
us, if we could propose the Means. We have taken their 
Good-will into Consideration, and have contrived a Method 
which will be easie to those who shall give the Aid, and not 
unacceptable to us who receive it. A Consort of Musick 
shall be prepared at Haberdashers-Hall for Wednesday the 
Second of May, and we will honour the said Entertainment 
with our own Presence, where each Person shall be assessed 
but at two Shillings and six Pence. What we expect from you 
is, that you publish these our Royal Intentions, with Injunction 
that they be read at all Tea-Tables within the Cities of London 
and Westminster', and so we bid you heartily Farewel. 

Latinus, King of the Volscians. 

Given at our Court in Vinegar-Yard, Story the Third from 
the Earth. April 28, 1711.* R 


No. 54. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, May 2. 

Strenua nos exercet inertia. —Hor. 

The following Letter being the first that I have received from 
the learned University of Cambridge, I could not but do my self 
the Honour of publishing it. It gives an Account of a new 
Sect of Philosophers which has aro.se in that famous Residence 
of Learning; and is, perhaps, the only Sect this Age is likely 
to produce. 

* Mr. Spectator, Cambridge, April 26. 

Believing you to be an universal Encourager of liberal Arts 
and Sciences, and glad of any Information from the learned 
World, I thought an Account of a Sect of Philosophers very 
frequent among us, but not taken notice of, as far as I can 
remember, by any Writers either ancient or modern, would not 
bo unacceptable to you. The Philosophers of this Sect are, 
in the Language of our University called Lowngers. I am of 
Opinion, that, as in many other things, so likewise in this, the 
Ancients have been defective; vis. in mentioning no Philoso¬ 
phers of this sort. Some indeed will affirm that they are a kin^ 



164 THE SPECTATOR No. 54. Wednesday, May 2, 1711 

of Pcripateticks, because we see them continually walking 
about. But I would have these Gentlemen consider, that tho’ 
the ancient Pcripateticks walked much, yet they wrote much 
also; (witness, to the Sorrow of this Sect, A ristoile and others): 
Whereas it is notorious that most of our Professors never lay 
out a Farthing either in Pen, Ink, or Paper. Others are for 
deriving them from Diogenes, because several of the leading 
Men of the Sect have a great deal of the Cynical Humour in 
them, and delight much in Sun-.shine. But then again, 
Diogenes was content to have his constant Habitation in a 
narrow Tub, whilst our Philosophers are so far from being of 
his Opinion, that it's Death to them to be confined within the 
Limits of a good handsome convenient Chamber but for half 
an Hour. Others there are, who from the Clearness of their 
Heads deduce the Pedigree of Lowngers from that great Man 
(I think it was either Plato or Socrates) who after all his Study 
and Learning professed, That all he then knew was, that he 
knew nothing. You easily see this is but a shallow Argument, 
and may be soon confuted. 

I have with great Pains and Industry made my Observations, 
from time to time, upon these Sages; and having now all 
Materials ready, am compiling a Treatise, wherein I shall set 
forth the Rise and Progress of this famous Sect, together with 
their Maxims, Austerities, Manner of living, &c. Having 
prevailed with a Friend who designs shortly to publish a 
new Edition of Diogenes Laertius, to add this Treatise of mine 
by way of Supplement; I shall now, to let the World see what 
may be expected from me (first begging Mr. Spectator’s 
Leave that the World may .see it) briefly touch upon some of 
my chief Observations, and then sub.scribe my self your 
humble Servant. In the first Place I shall give you two or 
three of their Maxims: The fundamental one, upon which their 
whole System is built, is this, viz. That Time being an im¬ 
placable Enemy to and Destroyer of all things, ought to be 
paid in his own Coin, and be destroyed and murdered with¬ 
out Mercy, by all the Ways that can be invented. Another 
favourite Saying of theirs is. That Business was designed only 
for Knaves, and Study for Blockheads, A Third seems to be 
a ludicrous one, but has a great Effect upon their Lives; and 
is this. That the Devil is at home. Now for their Manner of 
Living: And here I have a large Field to expatiate in; but I 
shall reserve Particulars for my intended Discourse, and now 
only mention one or two of their principal Exercises. The 
elder Proficients employ themselves in inspecting mores 
hominum multorum, in getting acquainted with all the Signs 
and Windows in the Town. Some are arrived to so great 



No. 54. Wednesday, May 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 165 

Knowledge, that they can tell every time any Butcher kills a 
Calf, every time an old Woman’s Cat is in the Straw; and a 
thousand other Matters as important. One ancient Philoso¬ 
pher contemplates two or three Hours every Day over a 
Sun-Dial; and is true to the Dial, 

. . . As the Dial to the Sun, 

Although it be not shone upon. 

Our younger Students are content to carry their Speculations 
as yet no farther than Bowling-Greens, I 3 illiard-Tables, and 
such like Places. This may serve for a Sketch of my Design; 
in which I hope I shall have your Encouragement. 

/ am, Sir, 

Yours.’ 

I must be so just as to observe I have formerly seen of this 
Sect at our other University; tho’ not distinguished by the 
Appellation which the learned Historian, my Correspondent, 
reports they bear at Cambridge. They were ever looked upon 
as a People that impaired themselves more by their strict 
Application to the Rules of their Order, than any other Students 
whatever. Others seldom hurt themselves any further than to 
gain weak Eyes and sometimes Head-aches; but these Philoso¬ 
phers are seized all over with a general Inability, Indolence, and 
Wearine.ss, and a certain Impatience of the Place they are in, 
with an Heaviness in removing to another. 

The Lowngers are satisfied with being merely Part of the 
Number of Mankind, without distinguisliing themselves from 
amongst them. They may be said rather to suffer their Time 
to pass, than to spend it, without Regard to the past, or Pros¬ 
pect of the future. All they know of Life is only the present 
Instant, and do not taste even that. When one of this Order 
happens to be a Man of Fortune, the Expence of his Time is 
transferred to his Coach and Horses, and his Life is to be 
measured by their Motion, not his own Enjoyments or Sufier- 
ings. The chief Entertainment one of these Philosophers can 
possibly propose to himself, is to get a Relish of Dress: This, 
methinks, might diversifie the Person he is weary of (his own 
dear self) to himself. I have known the.se two Amusements 
make one of these Pliilosophers make a tolerable Figure in the 
World; with Variety of Dresses in publick Assemblies in Town, 
and quick Motion of his Horses out of it, now to Bath, 
now to Tunbridge, then to New-Market, and then to London, 
he has in Process of time brought it to pass, that his Coach and 
his Horses have been mentioned in all those Places. When the 



i66 THE SPECTATOR No. 54. Wednesday, May 2, 1711 

Lowngers leave an Academick Life, and instead of this more 
elegant way of appearing in the polite World, retire to the Seats 
of their Ancestors, they usually join a Pack of Dogs, and em¬ 
ploy their Days in defending their Poultry from Foxes: I do 
not know any other Method that any of this Order has ever 
taken to make a Noise in the World; but I shall enquire into 
such about this Town as have arrived at the Dignity of being 
Lowngers by the Force of natural Parts, without having ever 
seen an University; and send my Correspondent, for the 
Embellishment of his Book, the Names and History of those 
who pass their Lives without any Incidents at all; and how 
they shift Coffee-houses and Chocolate-houses from Hour to 
Hour, to get over the insupportable Labour of doing nothing. 


No. 55. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, May 3. 


. . . Jntus & in jecore aegro 
Nascuntur domini . . .—Pers. 

Most of the Trades, Professions, and Ways of Living among 
Mankind, take their Original either from the Love of Pleasure, 
or the Fear of Want. The former, when it becomes too violent, 
degenerates into Luxury, and the latter into Avarice. As these 
two Principles of Action draw different Ways, J^ersius has given 
us a very humorous Account of a young Fellow who was rouzed 
out of his Bed, in order to be sent upon a long Voyage by 
Avarice, and afterwards over-persuaded and kept at Home by 
Luxury. I shall set down at length the Pleadings of these two 
imaginary Persons, as they are in the Original, with Mr. 
Dry den's Translation of them. 

Mane, piger, stertis. Surge, inquit Avaritia; eja 
Surge. Negas. Instat; surge inquit. Non queo. Surge. 
Et quid agam? Rogitas? Saperdas advehe Ponto, 
Castoreum, stuppas, hebenum, thus, lubrica Coa. 

Tolle recens primus piper e siiiente camelo. 

Verte aliquid; jura. 5 ed Jupiter audiet. Eheul 
Baro, regustatum digito terebrare salinum 
Contentus perages, si vivere cum Jove tendis. 

Jam pueris pellcm succinctus & oenophorum aptas; 

Ocyus ad navem. Nil obstat, quin trabe vasta 
A cgaeum rapias, nisi solgrs Luxuria ante 
Seductum moneat; Quo deinde, insane, ruis? Quo? 

Quid tibi vis? Calido sub pectore mascula bilis 
Jnlumuit, quam non extinxerit urna cicutae. 



No. 55. Thursday, May lyn THE SPECTATOR 167 

Tun’ mare transilias? Tibi torta cannabe fulto 
Coena sit in transtro? Veientanumque rubellum 
Exhalet vapida laesum pice sessilis obha? 

Quid petis? Ut nummi, quos hie quincunce modesto 
Nu trier as, pergant avidos sudare deunces? 

Indulge genio: carpamus dulcia: nostrum esi 
Quod vivis: cinis, &• manes, &• fahula fies. 

Vine memor lethi: fugit hora. Hoc quod loquor, inde esi 
En quid agis? Duplici in diver sum scinderis hamo. 
Hunctne, an hunc sequeris? . . , 

Whether alone, or in thy Harlot's Lap, 

When thou would'st taVre a lazy Morning’s Nap, 

Up, Up, says A V A RICE; thou snor'st again, 

Stretchest thy Limbs, and yawn'st, but ^1 in vain. 

The rugged Tyrant no Denial takes; 

At his Command th' unwilling Sluggard wakes. 

What must I do ? he cries; WQiat ? says his Lord: 

Why ri.se, make ready, and go straight Aboard: 

With Fish, from Euxine Seas, thy Vessel freight; 

Flax, Castor, Coan Wines, the precious Weight 
Of Pepper, and Sahean Incense, take \ 

With thy own Hands, from the tir'd Camel’s Back, I- 
And with Poste-haste thy running Markets make, j 
Be sure to turn the Penny; Lye and Swear, 

'Tis wholsom Sin: But Jove, thou say’st, will hear. 

Swear, Fool, or Starve; for the Dilemma'^ even: 

A Tradesman thou 1 and hope to go to Heav'n ? 

Resolv’d for Sea, the Slaves thy Baggage pack. 

Each saddled with his Burden on his Back: 

Nothing retards thy Voyage, now; but He, 

That soft voluptuous Ih-ince, call'd LUXURY-, 

And he may ask this civil Question; Friend, 

What dost thou make a Shipboard ? To what end ? 

Art thou of Bethlem’s noble College free ? 

Stark, staring mad, that thou would'st tempt the Sea? 
Cubb’d in a Cabbin, on a Mattress laid. 

On a brown George, with lowsie Swobbers fed. 

Dead Wine that stinks of the Borachio, sup 
From a foul Jack, or greasie Maple Cup? 

Say, would’st thou bear all this, to raise thy Store, 

From Six i’ th’ Hundred, to Six Hundred more? 

Indulge, and to thy Genius freely give: 

For, not to live at Ease, is not to live: 

Death stalks behind thee, and each flying Hour 
Does some loose Remnant of thy Life devour. 

Live, while thou liv’st; for Death will make us all 
A Name, a Nothing but an Old Wife’s Tale. 

Speak; wilt thou Avarice or Pleasure chuse 
To be thy Lord ? Take one, and one refuse. 



i68 THE SPECTATOR No, 55. Thursday, May 3, 1711 

When a Government flourishes in Conquests, and is secure 
from Foreign Attacks, it naturally falls into all the Pleasures 
of Luxury; and as these Pleasures are very expensive, they put 
those who are addicted to them upon raising fresh Supplies 
of Mony, by all the Methods of Rapaciousness and Corruption; 
so that Avarice and Luxury very often become one complicated 
Principle of Action, in those whose Hearts are wholly set upon 
Ease, Magnificence, and Pleasure. The most Elegant and 
Correct of all the Latin Historians observers, that in his time, 
when the most formidable States of the World were subdued 
by the Romans, the Republick sunk into those two Vices of a 
quite different Nature, Luxury and Avarice: And accordingly 
describes Catiline as one who coveted the Wealth of other Men, 
at the same time that he squandred away his own. This 
Observation on the Commonwealth, when it was in its height 
of Power and Riches, holds good of all Governments that are 
settled in a State of Ease and Prosperity. At such times Men 
naturally endeavour to outshine one another in Pomp and 
Splendor, and having no Fears to alarm them from Abroad, 
indulge themselves in the Enjoyment of all the Pleasures they 
can get into their Possession; which naturally produces Avarice, 
and an immoderate Pursuit after Wealth and Riches. 

As I was humouring my self in the Speculation of these two 
great Principles of Action, I could not forbear throwing my 
Thoughts into a little kind of Allegory or Fable, with which I 
shall here present my Reader. 

There were two vei*y powerful Tyrants engaged in a perpetual 
War against each other: The Name of the first was Luxury, and 
of the second Avarice. The Aim of each of them was no less 
than Universal Monarchy over the Hearts of Mankind. Luxury 
had many Generals under him, who did him ^eat Service, as 
Pleasure, Mirth, Pomp, and Fashion. Avarice was likewise 
very strong in his Officers, being faithfully served by Hunger, 
Industry, Care and Watchfulness: He had likewise a Privy- 
Counsellor who was always at his Elbow, and whispering 
something or other in his Ear: the Name of this Privy-Counsel¬ 
lor was Poverty. As A varies conducted himvself by the Counsels 
of Poverty, his Antagonist was entirely guided by the Dictates 
and Advice of Plenty, who was his first Counsellor and Minister 
of State, that concerted all his Measures for him, and never 
departed out of his Sight. While these two great Rivals were 
thus contending for Empire, their Conquests were very various. 
Luxury got Possession of one Heart, and Avarice of another. 
The Father of a Family would often range himself under the 
Banners of Avarice, and the Son under those of Luxury. The 
Wife and Husband would often declare themselves on the 



No, 55. Thursday, May 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 169 

two different Parties; nay, the same Person would very often 
side with one in his Youth, and revolt to the other in his old 
Age. Indeed the wise Men of the World stood Neuter) but 
alas! their Numbers were not considerable. At length, when 
these two Potentates had wearied themselves with waging 
War upon one another, they agreed upon an Interview, at which 
neither of their Counsellors were to be present. It is said that 
Luxury began the Parly, and after having represented the 
endless State of War in which they were engaged, told his 
Enemy, with a Frankness of Heart which is natural to him, 
that he believed they two should be very good Friends, were 
it not for the Instigations of Poverty, that pernicious Counsel¬ 
lor, who made an ill use of his Ear, and filled him with ground¬ 
less Apprehensions and Prejudices. To this Avarice replied, 
that he looked upon Plenty (the first Minister of his Antagonist) 
to be a much more destructive Counsellor than Poverty, for 
that he was perpetually suggesting Pleasures, banishing all 
the necessary Cautions against Want, and consequently under¬ 
mining tho.se Principles on which the Government of Avarice 
was founded. At last, in order to an Accommodation, they 
agreed upon this Preliminary; That each of them should 
immediately dismiss his Privy-Counsellor. When things were 
thus far adjusted towards a Peace, all other Differences were 
soon accommodated, in.somuch that for the future they resolved 
to live as good Friends and Confederates, and to share between 
them whatever Conquests were made on either side. For this 
Reason, we now find Luxury and A varice taking Possession of 
the same Ileart, and dividing the same Person between them. 
To which I shall only add, that since the discarding of the 
Counsellors above-mentioned. Avarice supplies Luxury in the 
room of Plenty, as Luxury prompts Avarice in the place of 
Poverty. C 


No. 56. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, May 4. 

Felices errors suo , . .—Lucan. 

The Americans believe that all Creatures have Souls, not only 
Men and Women, but Brutes, Vegetables, nay even the most 
inanimate things, as Stocks and Stones. They believe the 
same of all the Works of Art, as of Knives, Boats, Looking- 
glasses: And that as any of the.se Things perish, their Souls go 
into another World, which is inhabited by the Ghosts of Men 
and Women. For this Reason they always place by the Corpse 



lyo THE SPECTATOR No. 56. Friday, May 4, 1711 

of their dead Friend a Bow and Arrows, that he may make 
use of the Souls of them in the other World, as he did of their 
wooden Bodies in this. How absurd soever such an Opinion 
as this may appear, our European Philosophers have main¬ 
tained several Notions altogether as improbable. Some ol 
Plato's Followers in particular, \fhen they talk of the World of 
Ideas, entertain us with Substances and Beings no less extrava¬ 
gant and chymerical. Many Aristotelians have likewise spoken 
as unintelligibly of their substantial Forms. I shall only 
instance Albertus Magnus, who in his Dissertation upon the 
Load-stone observing that Fire will destroy its Magnctick 
Virtues, tells us that he took particular Notice of one as it 
lay glowing amidst an Heap of burning Coals, and that he per¬ 
ceived a certain blue Vapour to arise from it, which he believed 
might be the substantial Form, that is, in our West-Indian 
Phrase, the Soul of the Load-stone. 

There is a Tradition among the Americans, that one of their 
Countrymen descended in a Vision to the great Repository of 
Souls, or, as we call it here, to the other World; and that upon 
his Return he gave his Friends a distinct Account of every thing 
he saw among those Regions of the Dead. A Friend of mine, 
whom I have formerly mentioned, prevailed upon one of the 
Interpreters of the Indian Kings to enquire of them, if possible, 
what Tradition they have among them of this Matter: Which, 
as well as he could learn by those many Questions which he 
asked them at several Times, was in Substance as follows. 

The Visionary, whose Name was Marraton, after having 
travelled for a long Space under an hollow Mountain, arrived at 
length on the Confines of this World of Spirits, but could not 
enter it by reason of a thick Forest made up of Bushes, 
Brambles, and pointed Thoms, so perplexed and interwoven 
with one another that it was impossible to find a Passage 
through it. Whilst he was looking about for some Track or 
Pathway that might be worn in any Part of it, he saw an huge 
Lion crouched under the Side of it, who kept his Eye upon 
him in the same Posture as when he watches for his Prey. 
The Indian started back, whilst the Lion rose with a Spring, 
and leaped towards him. Being wholly destitute of ail other 
Weapons, he stooped down to take up an huge Stone in his 
Hand; but to his infinite Surprize grasped nothing, and found 
the supposed Stone to be only the Apparition of one. If he 
was disappointed on this Side, he was as much pleased on the 
other, when he found the Lipn, which had seized on his left 
Shoulder, had no Power to hurt him, and was only the Ghost 
of that ravenous Creature which it appeared to be. He no 
sooner got rid of his impotent Enemy, but he marched up to the 



No. ^6. Friday, May1711 THE SPECTATOR 171 

Wood, and after having surveyed it for some time, endeavoured 
to press into one Part of it that was a little thinner than the 
rest; when again, to his great Surprize, he found the Bushes 
made no Resistance, but that he walked through Briars and 
Brambles with the same Ease as through the open Air; and, 
in short, that the whole Wood was nothing else but a Wood of 
Shades. He immediately concluded, that this huge Thicket 
of Thoms and Brakes was designed as a kind of Fence or 
quick-set Hedge to the Ghosts it inclosed; and that probably 
their soft Substances might be torn by these subtle Points and 
Prickles, which were too weak to make any Impressions in 
Flesh and Blood. With this Thought he resolved to travel 
through this intricate Wood; when by degrees he felt a Gale of 
Perfumes breathing upon him, that grew stronger and sweeter 
in proportion as he advanced. He had not proceeded much 
further when he observed the Thorns and Briars to end, and 
give Place to a thousand beautiful green Trees covered with 
Blossoms of the finest Scents and Colours, that formed a 
Wilderness of Sweets, and were a kind of Lining to those ragged 
Scenes which he had before passed through. As he was coming 
out of this delightful Part of the Wood, and entering upon the 
Plains it inclosed, he saw severat Horsemen rushing by him, 
and a little while after heard the Cry of a Pack of Dogs. He 
had not listened long before he saw the Apparition of a milk- 
white Steed, with a young Man on the Back of it, advancing 
upon full Stretch after the Souls of about an hundred Beagles 
that were hunting down the Ghost of an Hare, which ran away 
before them with an unspeakable Swiftness. As the Man on 
the milk-white Steed came by him, he looked upon him 
very attentively, and found him to be the young Prince 
Nicharagua, who died about half a Year before, and by reason 
of his great Virtues, was at that time lamented over all the 
Western Parts of America. 

He had no sooner got out of the Wood, but he was enter¬ 
tained with such a Landskip of flowry Plains, green Meadows, 
running Streams, sunny Hills, and shady Vales, as were not to 
be represented by his own Expressions, nor, as he said, by the 
Conceptions of others. This happy Region was peopled with 
innumerable Swarms of Spirits, who applied themselves to 
Exercises and Diversions according as their Fancies led them. 
Some of them were tossing the Figure of a Coit; others were 
pitching the Shadow of a Bar; others were breaking the Ap¬ 
parition of a Horse; and Multitudes employing themselves upon 
ingenious Handicrafts with the Souls of departed Utensils] for 
that is the Name which in the Indian Language they give their 
Tools when they are burnt or broken. As he travelled thro' • 



172 THE SPECTATOR No. ^6. Friday, May lyii 

this delightful Scene, he was very often tempted to pluck the 
Flowers that rose every where about him in the greatest 
Variety and Profusion, having never seen several of them in 
his own Country. But he quickly found that though they 
were Objects of his Sight, they were not liable to his Touch. 
He at length came to the Side of a great River, and being a 
good Fisherman himself, stood upon the Banks of it some time 
to look upon an Angler that had taken a great many Shapes of 
Fishes, which lay flouncing up and down by him. 

I should have told my Reader, that this Indian had been 
formerly married to one of the greatest Beauties of his Country, 
by whom he had several Children. This Couple were so 
famous for their Love and Constancy to one another, that the 
Indians to this Day, when they give a married Man Joy of his 
Wife, wish that they may live together like Marraton and 
Yaratilda. Marraton had not stood long by the Fisherman 
when he saw the Shadow of his beloved Yaratilda, who had 
for some time fixed her Eye upon him, before he discovered her. 
Her Arms were stretched out towards him. Floods of Tears 
ran down her Eyes; her Looks, her Hands, her Voice called 
him over to her; and at the same time seemed to tell him that 
the River was unpassablc. ‘ Who can describe the Passion 
made up of Joy, Sorrow, Love, Desire, Astonishment, that rose 
in the Indian upon the Sight of his dear Yaratilda ? He could 
express it by nothing but his Tears, which ran like a River 
down his Cheeks as he looked upon her. He had not stood in 
this Posture long, before he plunged into the Stream that lay 
before him; and finding it to be nothing but the Phantom of a 
River, walked on the Bottom of it till he arose on the other 
Side. At his Approach Yaratilda flew into his Arms, whilst 
Marraton wished himself disencumbered of that Body which 
kept her from his Embraces. After many Questions and 
Endearments on both Sides, she conducted him to a Bower 
which she had dressed with her own Hands, with all the 
Ornaments that could be met with in those blooming Regions. 
She had made it gay beyond Imagination, and was every Day 
adding something new to it. As Marraton stood astonished 
at the unspeakable Beauty of her Habitation, and ravished 
with the Fragrancy that came from every Part of it, Yaratilda 
told him that she was preparing this Bower for his Reception, 
as well knowing that his Piety to his God, and his faithful 
Dealing towards Men, would certainly bring }\im to that happy 
Place, whenever his Life should be at an End. She then 
brought two of her Children to him, who died some Years 
before, and resided with her in the same delightful Bower; 
advising him to breed up those others which were still with 



No. ^6, Friday, May 11 THE SPECTATOR 173 

him in such a manner, that they might hereafter all of them 
meet together in this happy Place. 

The Tradition tells us further, that he had afterwards a 
Sight of those dismal Habitations which are the Portion of ill 
Men after Death; and mentions several Molten Seas of Gold, in 
which were plunged the Souls of barbarous Europeans, who 
put to the Sword so many Thousands of poor Indians for the 
sake of that precious Metal: But having already touched upon 
the chief Points of this Tradition, and exceeded the Measure 
of my Paper, I shall not give any further Account of it. C 


No. 57. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, May 5 . 

Quern praestare potest mulier galeata pudorem, 

Quae fugit a sexu? . . .—Juv. 

When the Wife of Hector, in Homer's Iliads, discourses with her 
Husband about the Battel in which he was going to engage, 
the Hero, desiring her to leave that Matter to his Care, bids her 
go to her Maids and mind her Spinning: By which the Poet 
intimates, that Men and Women ought to busie themselves in 
their proper Spheres, and on such Matters only as are suitable 
to their respective Sex. 

I am at this time acquainted with a young Gentleman, who 
has passed a great Part of his Life in the JNursery, and, upon 
Occasion, can make a Caudle or a Sack Posset better than any 
Man in England. He is likewise a wonderful Critick in Cam- 
brick and Muslins, and will talk an Hour together upon a 
Sweet-meat. He entertains his Mother every Night with 
Observations that he makes both in Town and Court; As 
what Lady shows the nicest Fancy in her Dress; what Man of 
Quality wears the fairest Wig; who has the finest Linnen, who 
the prettiest Snufi-box, with many other the like curious 
Remarks that may be made in good Company. 

On the other hand I have very frequently the Opportunity 
of seeing a Rural Andromache, who came up to Town last 
Winter, and is one of the greatest Fox Hunters in the Country. 
She talks of Hounds and Horses, and makes nothing of leaping 
over a Six-bar Gate. If a Man tells her a waggish Story, she 
gives him a Push with her Hand in jest, and calls him an 
impudent Dog; and if her Servant neglects his Business, 
threatens to kick him out of the House. I have heard her, in 
her Wrath, call a Substantial Trades-man a Lousie Cur; and 
remember one Day, when she could not think of the Name of a 



174 the spectator No. 57. Saturday, May 5, 1711 

Person, she described him, in a large Company of Men and 
Ladies, by the Fellow with the Broad Shoulders. 

If those Speeches and Actions, which in their own Nature are 
indifferent, appear ridiculous when they proceed from a wrong 
Sex, the Faults and Imperfections of one Sex transplanted into 
another, appear black and monstrous. As for the Men, I 
shall not in this Paper any further concern my self about them; 
but as I would fain contribute to make Woman-kind, which 
is the most beautiful Part of the Creation, entirely amiable, 
and wear out all those little Spots and Blemishes that are apt 
to rise among the Charms which Nature has poured out upon 
them, I shall dedicate this Paper to their Service. The Spot 
which I would here endeavour to clear them of, is that Party- 
Rage which of late Years is very much crept into their Con¬ 
versation. This is, in its Nature, a Male Vice, and made up 
of many angry and cruel Passions that are altogether repug¬ 
nant to the Softness, the Modesty, and those other endearing 
Qualities which are natural to the Fair Sex. Women were 
formed to temper Mankind, and sooth them into Tenderness 
and Compassion; not to set an Edge upon their Minds, and blow 
up in them those Passions which are too apt to rise of their own 
Accord. When I have seen a pretty Mouth uttering Calumnies 
and Invectives, what would I not have given to have stopt it? 
How have I been troubled to see some of the finest Features in 
the World grow pale, and tremble with Party-Rage ? Camilla 
is one of the greatest Beauties in the British Nation, and yet 
values her self more upon being the Virago of one Party, than 
upon being the Toast of both. The Dear Creature, about a 
Week ago, encountred the fierce and beautiful Penthesilea 
across a Tea-Table; but in the height of her Anger, as her 
Hand chanced to shake with the Earnestness of the Dispute, 
she scalded her Fingers, and spilt a Dish of Tea upon her 
Petticoat. Had not this Accident broke off the Debate, no 
Body knows where it would have ended. 

There is one Consideration which I would earnestly recom¬ 
mend to all my Female Readers, and which, I hope, will have 
some weight with them. In short, it is this, that there is 
nothing so bad for the Face as Party-Zeal. It gives an ill- 
natured Cast to the Eye, and a disagreeable Sourness to the 
Look; besides, that it makes the Lines too strong, and flushes 
them worse than Brandy. I have seen a Woman’s Face break 
out in Heats, as she has been talking against a great Lord, 
whom she had never seen in her Life; and indeed never knew 
a Party-Woman that kept her Beauty for a Twelve-month. 
I would therefore advise all my Female Readers, as they value 
their Complexions, to let alone all Disputes of this Nature; 



No. 57 - Saturday, May 11 THE SPECTATOR 175 

though, at the same time, I would give free Liberty to all 
superannuated motherly Partizans to be as violent as they 
please, since there will be no danger either of their spoiling 
their Faces, or of their gaining Converts. 

For my own part, I think a Man makes an odious and despic¬ 
able Figure, that is violent in a Party; but a Woman is too 
sincere to mitigate the Fury of her Principles with Temper and 
Discretion, and to act with that Caution and Reservedness 
which are requisite in our Sex. When this unnatural Zeal gets 
into them, it throws them into ten thousand Heats and Extra¬ 
vagances; their generous Souls set no Bounds to their Love, 
or to their Hatred; and whether a Whig or Tory, a Lap-Dog or 
a Gallant, an Opera or a Puppet-Show, be the Object of it, the 
Passion, while it reigns, engrosses the whole Woman. 

I remember when Dr. Titus Oates was in all his Glory, I 
accompanied my Friend Will. Honeycomb in a Visit to a 
Lady of his Acquaintance; We were no sooner sate down, but 
upon casting my Eyes about the Room, I found in almost 
every Comer of it a Print that represented the Doctor in all 
Magnitudes and Dimensions. A little after, as the Lady was 
discoursing my Friend, and held her Snuff-Box in her Hand, 
who should I see in the Lid of it but the Doctor. It was not 
long after this, when she had occasion for her Handkerchief, 
which upon the first opening discovered among the Plaites of 
it the Figure of the Doctor, Upon this my Friend Will, who 
loves Raillery, told her, That if he was in Mr. Truelove's Place 
(for that was the Name of her Husband) he should be made as 
uneasie by a Handkerchief as ever Othello was. / am afraid, 
said she, Mr. Honeycomb, you are a Tory: tell me truly, are you 
a Friend to the Doctor or not? Will, instead of maldng her a 
Reply, smiled in her Face (for indeed she was very pretty) 
and told her that one of her Patches was dropping off. She 
immediately adjusted it, and looking a little seriously. Well, 
says she, / ’ll he hanged if you and your silent Friend there are not 
against the Doctor in your Hearts, I suspected as much by his 
saying nothing. Upon this she took her Fan into her Hand, and 
upon the opening of it again displayed to us the Figure of the 
Doctor, who was placed with great Gravity among the Sticks of 
it. In a word, I found that the Doctor had taken Possession 
of her Thoughts, her Discourse, and most of her Furniture; 
but finding my self pressed too close by her Question, I winked 
upon my Friend to take his Leave, which he did accordingly. C 



176 THE SPECTATOR No. 58. Monday, May 7, lyii 
No. 58. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, May 7. 

Ut pictura poesis erit . . .—Hor. 

Nothing is so much admired, and so little understood, as Wit, 
No Author that I know of has written professedly upon it; 
and as for those who make any Mention of it, they only treat 
on the Subject as it has accidentally fallen in their Way, and 
that too in little short Reflections, or in general declamatory 
Flourishes, without entring into the Bottom of the Matter. 
I hope therefore I shall perform an acceptable Work to my 
Countrymen, if I treat at large upon this Subject; which I shall 
endeavour to do in a Manner suitable to it, that I may not 
incur the Censure which a famous Critick bestows upon one 
who had written a Treatise upon the Sublime in a low groveling 
Stile. I intend to lay aside a whole Week for this Under¬ 
taking, that the Scheme of my Thoughts may not be broken 
and interrupted; and I dare promise my self, if my Readers 
will give me a Week’s Attention, that this great City will be 
very much changed for the better by next Saturday Night. 
I shall endeavour to make what I say intelligible to ordinary 
Capacities; but if my Readers meet with any Paper that in 
some Parts of it may be a little out of their Reach, I would not 
have them discouraged, for they may assure themselves the 
next shall be much clearer. 

As the great and only End of these my Speculations is to 
banish Vice and Ignorance out of the Territories of Great 
Britain, I shall endeavour as much as possible to establish 
among us a Taste of polite Writing. It is with this View that 
I have endeavoured to set my Readers right in several Points 
relating to Operas and Tragedies; and shall from Time to Time 
impart my Notions of Comedy, as I think they may tend to its 
Refinement and Perfection. I find by my Bookseller that these 
Papers of Criticism, with that upon Humour, have met with a 
more kind Reception than indeed I could have hoped for from 
such Subjects; for which Reason I shall enter upon my present 
Undertatog with greater Chearfulness. 

In this, and one or two following Papers, I shall trace out 
the History of false Wit, and distinguish the several Kinds of 
it as they have prevailed in different Ages of the World. This 
I think the more necessary at present, because I observed 
there were Attempts on foot last Winter to revive some of 
those antiquated Modes of Wit that have been long exploded 
out of the Commonwealth of Letters. There were several 
Satyrs and Panegyricks handed about in Acrostick, by which 



No. 58. Monday, May 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 177 

Means some of the most arrant undisputed Blockheads al>out 
the Town began to entertain ambitious Thoughts, and to set 
up for polite Authors. I shall therefore describe at length 
those many Arts of false Wit. in which a Writer does not shew 
himself a Man of a beautiful Genius, but of great Industry. 

The first Species of false Wit which I have met with is very 
venerable for its Antiquity, and has produced several Pieces 
which have lived very near as long as the Iliad it self: I mean 
those short Poems printed among the minor Greek Poets, 
which resemble the Figure of an Egg, a Pair of Wings, an Ax, 
a Shepherd's Pipe, and an Altar. 

As for the first, it is a little oval Poem, and may not im¬ 
properly be called a Scholar’s Egg. I would endeavour to 
hatch it, or, in more intelligible Language, to translate it into 
English, did not I find the Interpretation of it very difficult; 
for the Author seems to have been more intent upon the Figure 
of his Poem, than upon the Sense of it. 

The Pair of Wings consist of twelve Verses, or rather Feathers, 
every Verse decreasing gradually in its Measure according to its 
Situation in the Wing. The Subject of it (as in the rest of the 
Poems which follow) bears some remote Affinity with the Figure, 
for it describes a God of Love, who is always painted with 
Wings. 

The Ax methinks would have been a good Figure for a 
Lampoon, had the Edge of it consisted of the most satyrical 
Parts of the Work; but as it is in the Original, I take it to have 
been nothing else but the Posie of an Ax which was consecrated 
to Minerva, and was thought to have been the same that Epeus 
made use of in the building of the Trojan Horse; which is a 
Hint I shall leave to the Consideration of the Criticks. I am 
apt to think that the Posie was written originally upon the 
Ax, like those which our modem Cutlers inscribe upon their 
Knives; and that therefore the Posie still remains in its ancient 
Shape, though the Ax it self is lost. 

The Shepherd's Pipe may be said to be full of Musick, for 
it is composed of nine different Kinds of Verses, which by their 
several Lengths resemble the nine Stops of the old musical 
Instrument, that is likewise the Subject of the Poem. 

The Altar is inscribed with the Epitaph of Troilus the son 
of Hecuba', which, by the way, makes me believe, that these 
false Pieces of Wit are much more ancient than the Authors 
to whom they are generally ascribed; at least I will never be 
perswaded, that so fine a Writer as Theocritus could have been 
the Author of any such simple Works. 

It was impossible for a Man to succeed in these Performances 
who was not a kind of Painter, or at least a Designer; He was 



178 THE SPECTATOR No. 58. Monday, May 7, 1711 

first of all to draw the Outline of the Subject which he intended 
to write upon, and afterwards conform the Description to the 
Figure of his Subject. The Poetry was to contract or dilate 
it self according to the Mould in which it was cast. In a Word, 
the Verses were to be cramped or extended to the Dimensions 
of the Frame that was prepared for them; and to undergo the 
Fate of those Persons whom the Tyrant Procrustes used to 
lodge in bis Iron Bed; if they were too short he stretched them 
on a Rack, and if they were too long chopped off a Part of their 
Legs, till they fitted the Couch which he had prepared for them. 

Mr. Dryden hints at this obsolete kind of Wit in one of the 
following Verses in his Mac Fleckno\ which an English Reader 
cannot understand, who does not know that there are those 
little Poems abovementioned in the Shape of Wings and Altars. 

. . . Chuse for thy Command 
Some peaceful Province in Acrostick Land: 

There may'st thou Wings display, and Altars raise. 

And torture one poor Word a thousand Ways. 

This Fashion of false Wit was revived by several Poets of the 
last Age, and in particular may be met with among Mr. Her¬ 
bert'^ Poems; and, if I am not mistaken, in the Translation of 
Du Bartas. I do not remember any other Kind of Work 
among the Moderns which more resembles the Performances 
I have mentioned, than that famous Picture of King Charles I. 
which has the whole Book of Psalms written in the Lines of 
the Face and the Hair of the Head. When I was last at 
Oxford I perused one of the Whiskers; and was reading the 
other, but could not go so far in it as I would have done, by 
reason of the Impatience of my Friends and Fellow-Travellers, 
who all of them pressed to see such a Piece of Curiosity. I 
have since heard, that there is now an eminent Writing-Master 
in Town, who has transcribed all the Old Testament in a full- 
bottomed Perriwig; and if the Fashion should introduce the 
thick Kind of Wigs which were in Vogue some few Years ago, 
he promises to add two or three supernumerary Locks that shall 
contain all the Apocrypha. He designed this Wig originally 
for King William, having disposed of the two Books of Kings 
in the two Forks of the Foretop; but that glorious Monarch 
dying before the Wig was finished, there is a Space left in 
it for the Face of any one that has a mind to purchase it. 

But to return to our ancient Poems in Picture, I would 
humbly propose, for the Benefit of our modem Smatterers 
in Poetry, that they would imitate their Brethren among the 
Ancients in those ingenious Devices. I have communicated 
this Thought to a young Poetical Lover of my Acquaintance, 



No. 58. Monday, May 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 179 

who intends to present his Mistress with a Copy of Verses made 
in the shape of her Fan; and, if he tells me true, has already 
finished the three first Sticks of it. He has likewise promised 
me to get the Measure of his Mistress's Marriage-Finger, with 
a Design to make a Posie in the Fashion of a Ring which shall 
exactly fit it. It is so very easie to enlarge upon a good Hint, 
that I do not question but my ingenious Readers will apply what 
I have said to many other Particulars; and that we shall see the 
Town filled in a very little time with Poetical Tippets, Handker¬ 
chiefs, Snuff-Boxes, and the like Female-Ornaments. I shall 
therefore conclude with a Word of Advice to those admirable 
English Authors who call themselves Pindarick Writers, that 
they would apply themselves to this Kind of Wit without Loss 
of Time, as being provided better than any other Poets with 
Verses of all Sizes and Dimensions. C 


No. 59. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday. May 8. 

Operose nihil agunt. —Sen. 

There is nothing more certain than that every Man would be 
a Wit if he could, and notwithstanding Pedants of a pretended 
Depth and Solidity are apt to decry the Writings of a polite 
Author, as Flash and Froth, they all of them shew upon Occa¬ 
sion that they would spare no Pains to arrive at the Character 
of those whom they seem to despise. For this Reason we 
often find them endeavouring at Works of Fancy, which cost 
them infinite Pangs in the Production. The Truth of it is, a 
Man had better be a Gally-Slave than a Wit, were one to gain 
that Title by those Elaborate Trifles which have been the 
Inventions of such Authors as were often Masters of Great 
Learning but no Genius. 

In my last Paper I mentioned some of those false Wits 
among the Ancients, and in this shall give the Reader two or 
three other Species of them, that flourished in the same early 
Ages of the World. The first I shall produce are the Lipo- 
grammatists or Letter-droppers of Antiquity, that would take 
an exception, without any Reaison, against some particular 
Letter in the Alphabet, so as not to admit it once into a whole 
Poem. One Tryphiodorns was a great Master in this kind of 
Writing. He composed an Odissey or Epick Poem on the 
Adventures of Ulysses, consisting of four and twenty Books, 
having entirely banished the letter A from his first Book, 
which was called Alpha (as Lucus a non lucendo) because there. 



i8o THE SPECTATOR No. 59. Tuesday, May 8, 1711 

was not an Alpha in it. His second Book was inscribed Beta, 
for the same Reason. In short, the Poet excluded the whole 
four and twenty Letters in their turns, and shewed them, one 
after another, that he could do his Business without them. 

It must have been very pleasant to have seen this Poet 
avoiding the reprobate Letter, as much as another would a 
false Quantity, and making his Escape from it through the 
several Greek Dialects, when he was pressed with it in any 
particular Syllable. For the most apt and elegant Word in 
the whole Language was rejected, like a Diamond with a Flaw 
in it, if it appeared blemished with a wrong Letter. I shall 
only observe upon this Head, that if the Work I have here 
mentioned had been now extant, the Odissey of Tryphiodorus, in 
all probability, would have been oftner quoted by our learned 
Pedants, than the Odissey of Homer. What a perpetual Fund 
would it have been of obsolete Words and Phrases, unusual 
Barbarisms and Rusticities, absurd Spellings and complicated 
Dialects ? I make no Question but it would have been looked 
upon as one of the most valuable Treasuries of the Greek Tongue. 

I find likewise among the Ancients that ingenious kind of 
Conceit, which the Moderns distinguish by the Name of a 
Rebus, that does not sink a Letter but a whole Word, by 
substituting a I-’icture in its place. When Caesar was one of the 
Masters of the Roman Mint, he placed the Figure of an Elephant 
upon the Reverse of the Publick Mony; the Word Caesar 
signifying an Elephant in the Punick Language. This was 
artificially contrived by Caesar, because it was not lawful for a 
private Man to stamp his own Figure upon the Coin of the 
Commonwealth. Cicero, who was so called from the Founder 
of his Family, that was marked on the Nose with a little Wenn 
like a Vetch (which is Cicer in Latin) instead of Marcus Tullius 
Cicero, ordered the Words Marcus Tullius with the Figure of a 
Vetch at the end of 'em to be inscribed on a Publick Monu¬ 
ment. This was done probably to shew that he was neither 
ashamed of his Name or Family, notwithstanding the Envy of 
his Competitors had often reproached him with both. In the 
same manner we read of a famous Building that was marked 
in several Parts of it with the Figures of a Frog and a Lizard: 
Those Words in Greek having been the Names of the Archi¬ 
tects, who by the Laws of their Country were never permitted 
to inscribe their own Names upon their Works. For the same 
Reason it is thought, that the Forelock of the Horse in the 
Antique-Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, represents at a 
distance the Shape of an Owl, to intimate the Country of the 
Statuary, who, in all probability, was an Athenian. This kind 
of Wit was very much in Vogue among our own Country-men 



No. 59. Tuesday, May 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 181 

about an Age or two ago, who did not practise it for any oblique 
Reason, as the Ancients above-mentioned, but purely for the 
sake of being Witty. Among innumerable Instances that may 
be given of this Nature, I shall produce the Device of one Mr. 
Newberry, as 1 find it mentioned by our learned Camden in his 
Remains. Mr. Newberry, to represent his Name by a Picture, 
hung up at his Door the Sign of a Yew-tree, that had several 
Berries upon it, and in the midst of them a great golden N hung 
upon a Bough of the Tree, which by the help of a little false 
Spelling made up the Word N-ew~herry. 

I shall conclude this Topick \vith a Rebus, which has been 
lately hewn out in Free-stone, and erected over two of the 
Portals of Blenheim House, being the Figure of a monstrous 
Lion tearing to Pieces a little Cock. For the better under¬ 
standing of which Device, I must acquaint my English Reader 
that a Cock has the Misfortune to be called in Latin by the same 
Word that signifies a French-Mden, as a Lion is the Emblem of 
the English Nation. Such a Device in so noble a Pile of Build¬ 
ing looks like a Punn in an Heroick Poem; and I am very .sorry 
the truly ingenious Architect would suffer the Statuary to 
blemish his excellent Plan with so poor a Conceit: But I hope 
what I have said will gain Quarter for the Cock, and deliver 
him out of the Lion’s Paw. 

I find likewise in ancient Times the Conceit of making an 
Eccho talk sensibly, and give rational Answers. If this could 
be excusable in any Writer, it would be in Ovid, where he in¬ 
troduces the Eccho as a Nymph, before she was worn away 
into nothing but a Voice. The learned Erasmus, tho' a Man of 
Wit and Genius, has composed a Dialogue upon this silly kind 
of Device, and made use of an Eccho who seems to have been 
a very extraordinary Linguist, for she answers the Person she 
talks with in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, according as she found 
the Syllables which she was to repeat in any of those learned 
Languages. Hudihras, in Ridicule of this false kind of Wit, 
has described Bruin bewailing the Loss of his Bear to a solitary 
Eccho, who is of great use to the Poet in several Disticks, as 
she does not only repeat after him, but helps out his Verse, 
and furnishes him with Rhymes. 

He rag'd, and kept as heavy a Coil as 
Stout Hercules /or loss of Hylas ; 

Forcing the Vallies to repeat 
The Accents 0/his sad Regret: 

He beat his Breast, and tore his Hair, 

For loss of his dear Crony Bear, 

That Eccho from the hollow Ground 

His doleful Wailings did resound ^ 



i82 the spectator No. 59. Tuesday, May 8, 1711 

More wistfully, by many times, 

Than in small Poets Splay-foot Rhymes, 

That make her, in their rueful Stories, 

To answer to Inf rogatories. 

And most unconscionably depose 
Things of which she nothing knows: 

And when she has said all she can say, 

’Tis wrested to the Lover's Fancy. 

Quoth he, 0 whither, wicked Bruin, 

Art thou fled to my - Eccho, Ruin? 

I thought th’ hadsi scorn’d to budge a Step 
For Fear. {Quoth Eccho) Marry guep. 

A m 1 not here to take thy Part I 

Then what has quell’d thy stubborn Heart? 

Have these Bones rattled, and this Head 
So often in thy Quarrel bled? 

Nor did J ever winch or grudge it, 

For thy dear Sake? {Quoth she) Mum budget. 

Think'st thou ‘twill not be laid i' th’ Dish 
Thou turn'dst thy Back? Quoth Eccho, Pish. 

To run from those th’ hadst overcome 
Thus cowardly? Quoth Eccho, Mum. 

But what a-vengeance makes thee fly 
From me too, as thine Enemy? 

Or if thou hadst no Thought of me, 

Nor what I have endur'd for Thee, 

Yet Shame and Honour might prevail 
To keep thee thus from turning 'Tail: 

For who wou’d grudge to spend his Blood in 
His Honour’s Cause? Quoth she, A Pudding. 


No. 60. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, May 9. 

Hoc est quod palles ? Cur quis non prandeat, hoc est ?— Per. Sat. 3. 

Several kinds of false Wit that vanished in the refined Ages 
of the World, discovered themselves again in the Times of 
Monkish Ignorance. 

As the Monks were the Masters of all that httle Learning 
which was then extant, and had their whole Lives entirely 
disengaged from Business, it is no Wonder that several of 
them, who wanted Genius for higher Performances, employed 
many Hours in the Composition of such Tricks in Writing as 
required much Time and little Capacity. I have seen half the 
Aeneid turned into Latin Rhymes by one of the Beaux Esprits 
of that dark Age; who says in his Preface to it, that the Aeneid 
wanted nothing but the Sweets of Rhyme to make it the most 



No. 6o. Wednesday, May g, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 183 

perfect Work in its kind. I have likewise seen an Hymn in 
Hexameters to the Virgin Mary, which filled a whole Book, 
tho' it consisted but of the eight following Words; 

Tot, tibi, simt, Virgo, dotes, quot, sidera, Coelo. 

Thou hast as many Virtues, O Virgin, as there are Stars in Heaven. 

The Poet rung the Changes upon these eight several Words 
and by that Means made his Verses almost as numerous as the 
Virtues and the Stars which they celebrated. It is no Wonder 
that Men who had so much Time upon their Hands, did not 
only restore all the antiquated Pieces of false Wit, but enriched 
the World with Inventions of their own. It was to this Age 
that we owe the Production of Anagrams, which is nothing 
else but a Transmutation of one Word into another, or the 
turning of the same Set of Letters into different Words; which 
may change Night into Day, or Black into White, if Chance, 
who is the Goddess that presides over these Sorts of Composi¬ 
tion, shall so direct. I remember a witty Author, in Allusion 
to this kind of Writing, calls his Rival, who (it .seems) was 
distorted, and had his Limbs set in Places that did not properly 
belong to them. The Anagram of a Man. 

When the Anagrammatist takes a Name to work upon, he 
considers it at first as a Mine not broken up, which will not 
shew the Treasure it contains till he shall hcive spent many 
Hours in the Search of it ; For it is his Business to find out 
one Word that conceals it self in another, and to examine the 
Letters in all the Variety of Stations in which they can possibly 
be ranged. I have heard of a Gentleman who, when this Kind 
of Wit was in fashion, endeavoured to gain his Mistress’s Heart 
by it. She was one of the finest Women of her Age, and known 
by the Name of the Lady Mary Boon. The Lover not being 
able to make any thing of Mary, by certain Liberties indulged 
to this kind of Writing converted it into Moll; and after having 
shut him self up for half a Year, with indefatigable Industry 
produced an Anagram. Upon the presenting it to his Mistress, 
who wa.s a little vexed in her Heart to see her self degraded 
into Moll Boon, she told him, to his infinite Surprize, that he 
had mistaken her Sirname, for that it was not Boon but Bohun. 

. . . Ibi omnis 
Effusus labor . . . 

The Lover was thunder-struck with his Misfortune, insomuch 
that in a little Time after he lost his Senses, which indeed 
had been very much impaired by that continual Application 
he had given to his Anagram. 



184 THE SPECTATOR No. 60. Wednesday, May 9, 1711 

The Acrostick was probably invented about the same time 
with the Anagram, though it is impossible to decide whether 
the Inventor of the one or the other were the greater Block¬ 
head. The Simple Acrostick is nothing but the Name or 
Title of a Person or Thing made out of the initial Letters of 
several Verses, and by that Means written, after the Manner 
of the Chinese, in a perpendicular Line. But besides these 
there are Compound Acrosticks, where the principal Letters 
stand two or three deep. I have seen some of them where 
the Verses have not only been edged by a Name at each 
Extremity, but have had the same Name running down like a 
Seam through the Middle of the Poem. 

There is another near Relation of the Anagrams and Acros¬ 
ticks, which is commonly called a Chronogram. This kind of 
Wit appears very often on many modern Medals, especially 
those of Germany, when they represent in the Inscription the 
Year in which they were coined. Thus we see on a Medal of 
Gustaphus Adolphus the following Words, ChrIstVs DuX 
ERGO TrIVMphVs. If you take the pains to pick the Figures 
out of the several Words, and range them in their proper 
Order, you will find they amount to MDCXVVVII, or 1627, the 
Year in which the Medal was stamped: For as some of the 
Letters distinguish themselves from the rest, and overtop their 
Fellows, they are to be considered in a double Capacity, both 
as Letters and as Figures. Your laborious German Wits will 
turn over a whole Dictionary for one of these ingenious Devices. 
A Man would think they were searching after an apt classical 
Term, but instead of that they are looking out a Word that 
has an L, an M, or a D in it. When therefore we meet with 
any of these Inscriptions, we are not so much to look in ’em for 
the Thought, as for the Year of the Lord. 

The Bouts Rimez were the Favourites of the French Nation 
for a whole Age together, and that at a Time when it abounded 
in Wit and Learning. They were a List of Words that rhyme 
to one another, drawn up by another Hand, and given to a 
Poet, who was to make a Poem to the Rhymes in the same 
Order that they were placed upon the List: The more uncom¬ 
mon the Rhymes were, the more extraordinary was the Genius 
of the Poet that could accommodate his Verses to them. I do 
not know any greater Instance of the Decay of Wit and 
Learning among the French (which generally follows the 
Declension of Empire) than the endeavouring to restore this 
foolish Kind of Wit. If the Reader will be at the Trouble to 
see Examples of it, let him Took into the new Mercure Galant] 
where the Author every Month gives a List of Rhymes to be 
filled up by the Ingenious, in order to be communicated to the 



No. 6o. Wednesday, May g, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 185 

Publick in the Mercure for the succeeding Month. That for 
the Month of November last, which now lies before me, is as 
follows. 

---------------- - Lanriers 

---------------- - Guerriers 

---.- Musette 

--------- --.. Lisette 

----------------- Cesars 

---------------- - Etendars 

.- -.- - Houlette 

- - -.- - -. Folette 

One would be amazed to see so learned a Man as Menage 
talking seriously on this Kind of Trifle in the following Passage. 

Monsieur de la Chambre has told me, that he never knew what 
he was going to write when he took his Pen into his Hand; but that 
one Sentence always produced another. For my own Part, I never 
knew what I should write next when I was making Verses. In the 
first Place I got all my Rhymes together, and was afterwards per¬ 
haps three or four Months in filling them up, I one Day shewed 
Monsieur Gombaud a Composition of this Nature, in which 
among others I had made use of the four following Rhymes, 
Amaryllis, Phillis, Marne, Arne, desiring him to give me his 
Opinion of it. He told me immediately, That my Verses were 
good for nothing. And upon my asking his Reason, he said, 
Because the Rhymes are too common: and for that Reason easie to 
be put into Verse. Marry, says I, if it be so, I am very well re¬ 
warded for all the Pains I have been at. But by Monsieur 
Gombaud's Leave, notwithstanding the Severity of the Criticism, 
the Verses were good, Vid. menagiana. Thus far the learned 
Menage, whom I have translated Word for Word. 

The first Occasion of these Bouts Rimez made them in some 
Manner excusable, as they were Tasks which the French Ladies 
used to impose on their Lovers. But when a grave Author, like 
him above-mentioned, tasked himself, could there be any thing 
more ridiculous ? Or would not one be apt to believe that the 
Author played booty, and did not make his List of Rhymes till 
he had finished his Poem ? 

I shall only add, that this Piece of false Wit has been finely 
ridiculed by Monsieur Sarasin, in a Poem entituled, La Defaite 
des Bouts-Rimez, The Rout of the Bouts-Rimez, 

I must subjoin to this last Kind of Wit the double Rh5rmes, 
which are used in Doggerel Poetry, and generally applauded by 
ignorant Readers. If the Thought of the Couplet in such 
Compositions is good, the Rhyme adds little to it; and if bad 











i86 THE SPECTATOR No. 6o. Wednesday, May g, 1711 

it will not be in the Power of the Rhyme to recommend it. 
I am afraid that great Numbers of those who admire the in¬ 
comparable Hudibras, do it more on account of these Doggerel 
Rhymes than of the Parts tliat really deserve Admiration. I 
am sure I have heard the 

Pulpit, Drum Ecclesiastick, 

Was beat with Fist instead of a Stick. 

and 

There was an antient saf;e Philosopher 
Who had read Alexander Ross over, 

more frequently quoted, than the finest Pieces of Wit in the 
whole Poem. C 


No. 61. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, May 10 . 

Non equidem hoc studeo, pullatis ut ntihi nugis 

Pagina turgescat, dare pondus idonea fumo. —Pers. 

There is no kind of false Wit which has been so recommended 
by the Practice of all Ages, as that which consists in a Jingle 
of Words, and is comprehended under the general Name of 
Punning. It is indeed impossible to kill a Weed, which the 
Soil has a natural Disposition to produce. The Seeds of 
Punning are in the Minds of all Men, and tho' they may be 
subdued by Reason, Reflection, and good Sense, they will be 
very apt to shoot up in the greatest Genius, that is not broken 
and cultivated by the Rules of Art. Imitation is natural to us, 
and when it does not raise the Mind to Poetry, Painting, Musick, 
or other more noble Arts, it often breaks out in Punns and 
Quibbles. 

Aristotle, in the Eleventh Chapter of his Book of Rhetorick, 
describes two or three kinds of Punns, which he calls Para- 
grams, among the Beauties of good Writing, and produces 
Instances of them out of some of the greatest Authors in the 
Greek Tongue. Cicero has sprinkled several of his Works with 
Punns, and in his Book where he lays down the Rules of 
Oratory, quotes abundance of Sayings as Pieces of Wit, which 
also upon Examination prove arrant Punns. But the Age 
in which the Punn chiefly flourished, was the Reign of King 
James the First. That learned Monarch was himself a toler¬ 
able Punnster, and made very few Bishops or Privy-Counsel- 
iors that had not some time or other signalized themselves by a 



No. 6i. Thursday, May lo, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 187 

Clinch, or a Conundrum. It was therefore in this Age that the 
Punn appeared with Pomp and Dignity. It had before been 
admitted into merry Speeches and ludicrous Compositions, 
but was now delivered with great Gravity from the Pulpit, or 
pronounced in the most solemn manner at the Council-Table. 
The greatest Authors, in their most serious Works, made 
frequent use of Punns. The Sermons of Bishop Andrews, and 
the Tragedies of Shakespear, are full of them. The Sinner was 
punned into Repentance by the former, as in the latter nothing 
is more usual than to see a Hero weeping and quibbling for a 
dozen Lines together. 

I must add to these great Authorities, which seem to have 
given a kind of Sanction to this Piece of false Wit, that all ' he 
Writers of Rhetorick have treated of Punning with very gri at 
Respect, and divided the several kinds of it into hard Names, 
that are reckoned among the Figures of Speech, and recom¬ 
mended as Ornaments in Discourse. I remember a Country 
School-master of my Acquaintance told me once, that he had 
been in Company with a Gentleman whom he looked upon to 
be the greatest Paragrammatist among the Modems. Upon 
Enquiry, I found my learned Friend had dined that day with 
Mr. Swan, the famous Punnster; and desiring him to give me 
some Account of Mr. Swan’s Conversation, he told me that he 
generally talked in the Paronomasia, that he sometimes gave 
into the Ploch, but that in his humble Opinion he shined most 
in the Antanaclasis. 

I must not here omit, that a famous University of this Land 
was formerly very much infested with Punns; but whether or 
no this might not arise from the Fens and Marshes in which it 
was situated, and which are now drained, I must leave to the 
Determination of more skilful Naturalists. 

After this short History of Punning, one would wonder how 
it should be so entirely banished out of the Learned World, 
as it is at present, especially since it had found a Place in the 
Writings of the most ancient Polite Authors. To account 
for this, we must consider, that the first Race of Authors, 
who were the great Heroes in Writing, were destitute of all 
Rules and Arts of Criticism; and for that Reason, though they 
excel later Writers in Greatness of Genius, they fall short of 
them in Accuracy and Correctness. The Moderns cannot 
reach their Beauties, but can avoid their Imperfections. When 
the World was furnished with these Authors of the first Emin¬ 
ence, there grew up another Set of Writers, who gained them¬ 
selves a Reputation by the Remarks which they made on the 
Works of those who preceded them. It was one of the Em¬ 
ployments of these Secondary Authors, to distinguish the . 



i88 THE SPECTATOR No. 6i. Thursday, May lo, 1711 

several kinds of Wit by Terms of Ait, and to consider them as 
more or less perfect, according as they were founded in Truth. 
It is no wonder therefore, that even such Authors as Isocrates, 
Plato, and Cicero, should have such little Blemishes as are not 
to be met with in Authors of a much inferior Character, who 
have written since those several Blemishes were discovered. 
I do not find that there was a proper Separation made between 
Punns and true Wit by any of the ancient Authors, except 
Quintilian and Longinus. But when this Distinction was once 
settled, it was very natural for all Men of Sense to agree in it. 
As for the Revival of this false Wit, it happened about the time 
of the Revival of Letters; but as soon as it was once detected, 
it immediately vanished and disappeared. At the same time 
there is no question, but as it has sunk in one Age and rose in 
another, it will again recover it self in some distant Period of 
Time, as Pedantry and Ignorance shall prevail upon Wit and 
Sense. And, to speak the Truth, I do very much apprehend, 
by some of the last Winter's Productions, which had their Sets 
of Admirers, that our Posterity will in a few Years degenerate 
into a Race of Punnsters: At least, a Man may be very ex¬ 
cusable for any Apprehensions of this kind, that has seen 
Acrosticks handed about the Town with great Secrecie and 
Applause; to which I must also add a little Epigram called tlie 
Witches Prayer, that fell into Verse when it was read either 
backward or forward, excepting only that it Cursed one way 
and Blessed the other. When one sees there are actually 
such Pains-takers among our British Wits, who can tell what 
it may end in? If we must Lash one another, let it be with 
the manly Strokes of Wit and Satyr; for I am of the old 
Philosopher’s Opinion, That if I must suffer from one or the 
other, I would rather it should be from the Paw of a Lion, 
than the Hoof of an Ass. 1 do not speak this out of any Spirit 
of Party. There is a most crying Dulness on both Sides. I 
have seen Tory Acrosticks and Whig Anagrams, and do not 
quarrel with either of them, because they are Whigs or Tories, 
but because they are Anagrams and Acrosticks. 

But to return to Punning. Having pursued the History of a 
Punn, from its Original to its Downfal, I shall here define it to 
be a Conceit arising from the use of two Words that agree in 
the Sound, but differ in the Sense. The only way therefore 
to try a Piece of Wit, is to translate it into a different Language: 
If it bears the Test you may pronounce it true; but if it vanishes 
in the Experiment you may conclude it to have been a Punn. 
In short, one may say of a Punn as the Country-man described 
his Nightingale, that it is vox <&* praeierea nihil, a Sound, and 
nothing but a Sound. On the contrary, one may represent true 



No. 6 i. Thursday, May lo, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 189 

Wit by the Description which Aristinetus makes of a fine 
Woman, When she is dressed she is Beautiful, when she is 
undressed she is Beautiful: Or, as Mercerus has translated 
it more Emphatically, Induitur, formosa est: Exuitur, ipsa 
forma est. C 


No. 62. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, May ii. 

Scribendi recte sapere est principium 6- fans. —Hor. 

Mr. Lock has an admirable Reflection upon the Difference of 
Wit and Judgment, whereby he endeavours to shew the 
Reason why they are not always the Talents of the same 
Person. His Words are as follow: And hence, perhaps, may be 
given some Reason of that common Observation, That Men who 
have a great deal of Wit and prompt Memories, have not always 
the clearest Judgment, or deepest Reason. For Wit lying most in 
the Assemblage of Ideas, and putting those together with Quickness 
and Variety, wherein can be found any Resemblance or Congruity, 
thereby to make up pleasant Pictures and agreeable Visions in the 
Fancy: Judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other Side, 
In separating carefully one from another, Ideas, wherein can be 
found the least Difference, thereby to avoid being mis-led by 
Similitude, and by A ffinity to take one thing for another. This is 
a Way of proceeding quite contrary to Metaphor and Allusion; 
wherein, for the most Part, lies that Entertainment and Pleasantry 
of Wit which strikes so lively on the Fancy, and is therefore so 
acceptable to all People. 

This is, I think, the best and most philosophical Account that 
I have ever met with of Wit, which generally, though not 
always, consists in such a Resemblance and Congruity of 
Ideas as this Author mentions. I shall only add to it, by way 
of Explanation; That every Resemblance of Ideas is not that 
which we call Wit, unless it be such an one that gives Delight 
and Surprize to the Reader: These two Properties seem essential 
to Wit, more particularly the last of them. In order therefore 
that the Resemblance in the Ideas be Wit, it is necessary that 
the Ideais should not lie too near one another in the Nature 
of things; for where the Likeness is obvious, it gives no Sur¬ 
prize. To compare one Man's Singing to that of another, or to 
represent the Whiteness of any Object by that of Milk and 
Snow, or the Variety of its Colours by those of the Rainbow, 
cannot be called Wit, unless, besides this obvious Resemblance,^ 



190 THE SPECTATOR No. 62. Friday, May ii, lyii 

there be some further Congruity discovered in the two Ideas 
that is capable of giving the Reader some Surprize. Thus 
when a Poet tells us. the Bosom of his Mistress is as white as 
Snow, there is no Wit in the Comparison; but when he adds, 
with a Sigh, that it is as cold too, it then grows into Wit. 
Every Reader’s Memory may supply him with innumerable 
Instances of the same Nature. For this Reason, the Simili¬ 
tudes in Heroick Poets, who endeavour rather to fill the Mind 
with great Conceptions, than to divert it with such as are new 
and surprizing, have seldom any thing in them that can be 
called Wit. Mr. Lock’s Account of Wit, with this short Ex¬ 
planation, comprehends most of the Species of Wit, as Meta¬ 
phors, Similitudes, Allegories, Aenigmas, Mottos, Parables, 
Fables, Dreams, Visions, dramatick Writings, Burlesque, and 
all the Methods of Allusion: As there are many other Pieces 
of Wit (how remote soever they may appear at first Sight from 
the foregoing Description) which upon Examination will be 
found to agree with it. 

As true Wit generally consists in this Resemblance and 
Congruity of Ideas, false Wit chiefly consists in the Resem¬ 
blance and Congruity sometimes of single Letters, as in Ana¬ 
grams, Chronograms, Lipograms, and Acrosticks: Sometimes 
of Syllables, as in Ecchos and Doggerel Rhymes: Sometimes 
of Words, as in Punns and Quibbles; and sometimes of whole 
Sentences or Poems, cast into the Figures of Eggs, Axes or 
Altars: Nay, some carry the Notion of Wit so far, as to ascribe 
it even to external Mimickry; and to look upon a Man as an 
ingenious Person, that can resemble the Tone, Posture, or 
Face of another. 

As true Wit consists in the Resemblance of Ideas, and false 
Wit in the Resemblance of Words, according to tlie foregoing 
Instances; there is another kind of Wit which consists partly 
in the Resemblance of Ideas, and partly in the Resemblance of 
Words; which for Distinction Sake I shall call mixt Wit. This 
Kind of Wit is that which abounds in Cowley, more than in any 
Author that ever wrote. Mr. Waller has likewise a great deal 
of it. Mr. Dryden is very sparing in it. Milton had a Genius 
much above it. Spencer is in the same class with Milton. 
The Italians, even in their Epic Poetry, are full of it. Monsieur 
Boileau, who formed himself upon the Ancient Poets, has every 
where rejected it with Scorn. If we look after mixt Wit among 
the Greek Writers, we shall find it no where but in the Epigram¬ 
matists. There are indeed some Strokes of it in the little 
Poem ascribed to Musaeus, which by that, as well as many other 
Marks, betrays it self to be a modem Composition. If we look 
into the Latin Writers, we find none of this mixt Wit in Virgil, 



No. 62. Friday, May ii, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 191 

Lucretius, or Catullus) very little in Horace, but a great deal 
of it in Ovid, and sccirce any thing else in Martial. 

Out of the innumerable Branches of mixt Wit, I shall chuse 
one Instance which may be met with in all the Writers of this 
Class. The Passion of Love in its Nature has been thought to 
resemble Fire; for which Reason the Words Fire and Flame 
are made use of to signifie Love. The witty Poets therefore 
have taken an Advantage from the doubtful Meaning of the 
Word Fire, to make an infinite Number of Witticisms. Cowley 
observing the cold Regard of his Mistress’s Eyes, and at the 
same Time their Power of producing Love in him, considers 
them as Burning-Glasses made of Ice; and finding himself able 
to live in the greatest Extremities of Love, concludes the 
Torrid Zone to be habitable. When his Mistress has read his 
Letter written in Juice of Lemmon by holding it to the Fire, 
he desires her to read it over a second time by Love's Flames. 
When she weeps, he wishes it were inward Heat that distilled 
those Drops from the Limbeck. When she is absent he is 
beyond eighty, that is, thirty Degrees nearer the Pole than 
when she is with him. His ambitious Love is a Fire that 
naturally mounts upwards; his happy Love is the Beams of 
Heaven, and his unhappy Love Flames of Hell. When it does 
not let him sleep, it is a Flame that sends up no Smoak; when 
it is opposed by Counsel and Advice, it is a Fire that rages the 
more by the Wind’s blowing upon it. Upon the dying of a 
Tree in which he had cut his Loves, he observes that his written 
Flames had burnt up and withered the Tree. When he re¬ 
solves to give over his Passion, he tells us that one burnt like 
him for ever dreads the Fire. His Heart is an Aetna, that 
instead of Vulcan’s Shop encloses Cupid’s Forge in it. His 
endeavouring to drown his Love in Wine, is throwing Oil upon 
the Fire. He would insinuate to his Mistress, that the Fire of 
Love, like that of the Sun (which produces so many living 
Creatures) should not only warm but beget. Love in another 
Place cooks Pleasure at his Fire. Sometimes the Poet’s 
Heart is frozen in every Breast, and sometimes scorched in 
every Eye. Sometimes he is drowned in Tears, and burnt in 
Love, like a Ship set on Fire in the Middle of the Sea. 

The Reader may observe in every one of these Instances, 
that the Poet mixes the Qualities of Fire with those of Love; 
and in the same Sentence speaking of it both as a Passion, and 
as real Fire, surprizes the Reader with those seeming Re¬ 
semblances or Contradictions that make up all the Wit in this 
kind of Writing. Mixt Wit therefore is a Composition of Punn 
and true Wit, and is more or less perfect as the Resemblance 
lies in the Ideas or in the Words: Its Foundations are laid 



192 THE SPECTATOR No. 62. Friday, May ii, 17ri 

partly in Falsehood and partly in Truth: Reason puts in her 
Claim for one Half of it, and Extravagance for the other. The 
only Province therefore for this kind of Wit, is Epigram, or 
those little occasional Poems that in their own Nature are 
nothing else but a Tissue of Epigrams. I cannot conclude this 
Head of mixt Wit, without owning that the admirable Poet 
out of whom I have taken the Examples of it, had as much 
true Wit as any Author that ever writ; and indeed all other 
Talents of an extraordinary Genius. 

It may be expected, since I am upon this Subject, that I 
should take Notice of Mr. Dryden’s Definition of Wit; which, 
with all the Deference that is due to the J udgment of so great 
a Man, is not so properly a Definition of Wit, as of good Writing 
in general. Wit, as he defines it, is ' a Propriety of Words and 
Thoughts adapted to the Subject.’ Tf this be a true Definition 
of Wit, I am apt to think that Euclid was the greatest Wit 
that ever set Pen to Paper: It is certain that never was a greater 
Propriety of Words and Thoughts adapted to the Subject, than 
what that Author has made use of in his Elements. I shall 
only appeal to my Reader, if this Definition agrees with any 
Notion he has of Wit: If it be a true one, I am sure Mr. Dryden 
was not only a better Poet, but a greater Wit than Mr. Cowley, 
and Virgil a much more facetious Man than either Ovid or 
Martial. 

Bouhours, whom I look upon to be the most penetrating of 
all the French Criticks, has taken Pains to shew, That it is 
impossible for any Thought to be beautiful which is not just, 
and has not its Foundation in the Nature of Things: That the 
Basis of all Wit is Truth; and that no Thought can be valuable, 
of which good Sense is not the Ground-work. Boileau has 
endeavoured to inculcate the same Notion in several Parts of 
his Writings, both in Prose and Verse. This is that natural 
Way of Writing, that beautiful Simplicity, which we so much 
admire in the Compositions of the Ancients; and which no 
Body deviates from, but those who want Strength of Genius 
to make a Thought shine in its own natural Beauties. Poets 
who want this Strength of Genius to give that Majestick 
Simplicity to Nature, which we so much admire in the Works 
of the Ancients, are forced to hunt after foreign Ornaments, 
and not to let any Piece of Wit of what Kind soever escape 
them. I look upon these Writers as Goths in Poetry, who, like 
those in Architecture, not being able to come up to the beautiful 
Simplicity of the old Greeks and Romans, have endeavoured to 
supply its Place with all the Extravagances of an irregular 
Fancy. Mr. Dryden makes a very handsom Observation on 
Ovid's Writing a Letter from Dido to Aeneas, in the following 



No. 62. Friday, May ii, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 193 

Words: ‘ Ovid (says he, speaking of Virgil’s Fiction of Dido and 
Aeneas) takes it up after him, even in the same Age, and makes 
an Ancient Heroine of Virgil’s new-created Dido', dictates a 
Letter for her just before her Death to the ungrateful Fugitive; 
and, very unluckily for himself, is for measuring a Sword with 
a Man so much superior in Force to him, on the same Subject. 
I think I may be Judge of this, because I have translated both. 
The famous Author of the Art of Love has nothing of his own; 
he borrows all from a greater Master in his own Profession, and, 
which is worse, improves nothing which he finds: Nature fails 
him, and being forced to his old Shift, he has Recourse to 
Witticism. This passes indeed with his soft Admirers, and 
gives him the Preference to Virgil in their Esteem.' 

Were not I supported by so great an Authority as that of 
Mr. Dryden, I should not venture to observe, That the Taste 
of most of our English Poets, as well as Readers, is extremely 
Gothick. He quotes Monsieur Segrais for a threefold Distinc¬ 
tion of the Readers of Poetry: In the first of which he com¬ 
prehends the Rabble of Readers, whom he does not treat as 
such with regard to their Quality, but to their Numbers 
and the Coarseness of their Taste. His Words are as follow: 

* Segrais has distinguished the Readers of Poetry, according to 
their Capacity of judging, into three Classes. [He might have 
said the same of Writers too, if he had pleased.] In the lowest 
Form he places those whom he calls Les Petits Esprits, such 
things as are our Upper-Gallery Audience in a Play-house; 
who like nothing but the Husk and Rind of Wit, prefer a 
Quibble, a Conceit, an Epigram, before solid Sense and elegant 
Expression; These are Mob-Readers. If Virgil and Martial 
stood for Parliament-Men, we know already who would carry 
it. But though they make the greatest Appearance in the 
Field, and cry the loudest, the best on't is they are but a sort 
of French Huguenots, or Dutch Boors, brought over in Herds, 
but not Naturalized; who have not Lands of two Pounds per 
Annum in Parnassus, and therefore are not privileged to Poll. 
Their Authors are of the same Level, fit to represent them on a 
Mountebank's Stage, or to be Masters of the Ceremonies in a 
Bear-Garden: Yet these are they who have the most Admirers. 
But it often happens, to their Mortification, that as their 
Readers improve their Stock of Sense (as they may by reading 
better Books, and by Conversation with Men of Judgment) 
they soon forsake them.' 

I must not dismiss this Subject without observing, that as 
Mr. Lock in the Passage above-mentioned has discovered the 
most fruitful Source of Wit, so there is another of a quite 
contrary Nature to it, which does likewise branch it self out* 



194 THE SPECTATOR No. 62. Friday, May ii, 1711 

into several Kinds. For not only the Resemblance, but the 
Opposition of Ideas does very often produce Wit; as I could 
shew in several little Points, Turns, and Antitheses, that I may 
possibly enlarge upon in some future Speculation. C 


No. 63. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, May 12. 

Humano capiii cervicem pictor equinam 
Jungeve si velit, & varias inducere plumas 
Undique collatis membris, ut turpiter atrum 
Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne: 

Spectatum admissi risum teneatis, amici? 

Credite, Pisones, isti tabulae fore librum 
Persimilem, cujus, velut aegri somnia, vanae 
Fingentur species . . . —Hor. 

It is very hard for the Mind to disengage itself from a Subject 
in which it has been long employed. The Thoughts will be 
rising of themselves from time to time, tho' we give them no 
Encouragement: as the Tossings and Fluctuations of the Sea 
continue several Hours after the Winds are laid. 

It is to this that I impute my last Night's Dream or Vision, 
which formed into one continued Allegory the several Schemes 
of Wit, whether False, Mixed, or True, that have been the 
Subject of my late Papers. 

Methoughts I was transported into a Country that was filled 
with Prodigies and Enchantments, governed by the Goddess of 
Falsehood, and entitled The Region of False Wit. There 
was nothing in the Fields, the Woods, and the Rivers, that 
appeared natural. Several of the Trees blossomed in Leaf- 
Gold, some of them produced Bone-Lace, and some of them 
precious Stones. The Fountains bubbled in an Opera Tune, 
and were filled with Stags, Wild-Boars, and Mermaids, that 
lived among the Waters; at the same time that Dolphins and 
several kinds of Fish played upon the Banks, or took their 
Pastime in the Meadows. The Birds had many of them golden 
Beaks, and human Voices. The Flowers perfumed the Air 
with Smells of Incense, Amber-greese, and Pulvillios; and were 
so interwoven with one another, that they grew up in Pieces 
of Embroidery. The Winds were filled with Sighs and Mes¬ 
sages of distant Lovers. As I was walking to and fro in this 
enchanted Wilderness, I could not forbear breaking out into 
Soliloquies upon the several Wonders which lay before me, 
when to my great Surprise, I found there were artificial Ecchoes 
in every Walk, that by Repetitions of certain Words which I 



No. 63. Saturday, May 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 195 

spoke, agreed with me, or contradicted me, in every thing I said. 
In the midst of my Conversation with these invisible Com¬ 
panions, I discovered in the Centre of a very dark Grove a 
monstrous Fabrick built after the Gothick manner, and covered 
with innumerable Devices in that barbarous kind of Sculpture. 
I immediately went up to it, and found it to be a kind of 
Heathen Temple consecrated to the God of Dullness. Upon 
my Entrance I saw the Deity of the Place dressed in the Habit 
of a Monk, with a Book in one Hand and a Rattle in the other. 
Upon his right Hand was Industry, with a Lamp burning before 
her; and on his left Caprice, with a Monky sitting on her 
Shoulder. Before his Feet there stood an Altar of a very 
odd Make, which, as I afterwards found, was shaped in that 
manner, to comply with the Inscription that surrounded it. 
Upon the Altar there lay several Offerings of Axes, Wings, and 
Eggs, cut in Paper, and inscribed with Verses. The Temple 
was filled with Votaries, who applied themselves to different 
Diversions, as their Fancies directed them. In one Part of it 
I saw a Regiment of Anagrams, who were continually in motion, 
turning to the Right or to the Left, facing about, doubling their 
Ranks, shifting their Stations, and throwing themselves into 
all the Figures, and Counter-marches of the most changeable 
and perplexed Exercise. 

Not far from these was a Body of Acrosticks, made up of 
very disproportioned Persons. It was disposed into three 
Columns, the Officers planting themselves in a Line on the 
left Hand of each Column. The Officers were all of them at 
least Six Foot high, and made three Rows of very proper 
Men; but the Common Soldiers, who filled up the Spaces 
between the Officers, were such Dwarfs, Cripples, and Scare¬ 
crows, that one could hardly look upon them without laughing. 
There were behind the Acrosticks two or three Files of Chrono¬ 
grams, which differed only from the former, as their Officers 
were equipped (like the Figure of Time) with an Hour-glass 
in one Hand, and a Scythe in the other, and took their Posts 
promiscuously among the private Men whom they commanded. 

In the Body of the Temple, and before the very Face of the 
Deity, methought I saw the Phantom of Tryphiodorus the 
Lipogrammatist, engaged in a Ball with four and twenty Per¬ 
sons, who pursued him by turns thro' all the Intricacies and 
Labyrinths of a Country Dance, without being able to over¬ 
take him. 

Observing several to be very busie at the Western End of 
the Temple, I enquired into what they were doing, and found 
there was in that Quarter the great Magazine of Rebus’s. 
These were several things of the most different Natures tie 4 



196 THE SPECTATOR No. 63. Saturday, May 12, 1711 

up in Bundles, and thrown upon one another in heaps like 
Faggots. You might behold an Anchor, a Night-rail, and an 
Hobby-horse bound up together. One of the Workmen seeing 
me very much surprised, told me, there was an infinite deal of 
Wit in several of those Bundles, and that he would explain 
them to me if I pleased: I thanked him for his Civility, but told 
him I was in very great haste at that time. As I was going out 
of the Temple, I observed in one Corner of it a Cluster of Men 
and Women laughing very heartily, and diverting themselves 
at a game of Crambo. I heard several Double Rhymes as I 
passed by them, which raised a great deal of Mirth. 

Not far from these was another Set of merry People engaged 
at a Diversion, in which the whole Jest was to mistake one 
Person for another. To give Occasion for these ludicrous 
Mistakes, they were divided into Pairs, every Pair being covered 
from Head to Foot with the same kind of Dress, though per¬ 
haps there was not the least Resemblance in their Faces. By 
this means an old Man was sometimes mistaken for a Boy, a 
Woman for a Man, and a Black-a-moor for an European, which 
very often produced great Peals of Laughter. These I guessed 
to be a Party of Punns. But being very desirous to get out 
of this World of Magick, which had almost turned my Brain, 
I left the Temple, and crossed over the Fields that lay about it 
with all the Speed I could make. I was not gone far before I 
heard the Sound of Trumpets and Alarms, which seemed to 
proclaim the March of an Enemy; and, as I afterwards found, 
was in reality what I apprehended it. There appeared at a 
great Distance a very shining Light, and in the midst of it a 
Person of a most beautiful Aspect; her Name was Truth. 
On her Right Hand there marched a Male Deity, who bore 
several Quivers on his Shoulders, and grasped several Arrows 
in his Hand. His Name was fVit. The Approach of these two 
Enemies filled all the Territories of False JVit with an un¬ 
speakable Consternation, insomuch that the Goddess of those 
Regions appeared in Person upon her Frontiers, with the 
several inferior Deities, and the different Bodies of Forces 
which I had before seen in the Temple, who were now drawn 
up in Array, and prepared to give their Foes a warm Recep¬ 
tion. As the March of the Enemy was very slow, it gave time 
to the several Inhabitants who bordered upon the Regions of 
Falsehood to draw their Forces into a Body, with a Design 
to stand upon their Guard as Neuters, and attend the issue of 
the Combat. 

I must here inform my Reader, that the Frontiers of the 
Enchanted Region, which I have before described, were in¬ 
habited by the Species of Mixed Wit, who made a very odd 



No. 63. Saturday, May 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 197 

Appearance when they were mustered together in an Army. 
There were Men whose Bodies were stuck full of Darts, and 
Women whose Eyes were Burning-glasses: Men that had 
Hearts of Fire, and Women that had Breasts of Snow. It 
would be endless to describe several Monsters of the like Nature, 
that composed this great Army; which immediately fell asunder 
and divided itself into two Parts; the one half throwing them¬ 
selves behind the Banners of Truth, and the others behind 
those of Falsehood. 

The Goddess of Falsehood was of a Gigantick Stature, and 
advanced some Paces before the Front of her Army; but as the 
dazling Light, which flowed from Truth, began to shine upon 
her, she faded insensibly; insomuch that in a little Space she 
looked rather like an huge Phantom, than a real Substance. 
At length, as the Goddess of Truth approached still nearer to 
her, she fell away entirely, and vanished amidst the Brightness 
of her Presence; so that there did not remain the least Trace or 
Impression of her Figure in the Place where she had been seen. 

As at the rising of the Sun the Constellations grow thin, and 
the Stars go out one after another, till the whole Hemisphere is 
extinguished; such was the vanishing of the Goddess: and not 
only of the Goddess herself, but of the whole Army that at¬ 
tended her, which sympathized with their Leader, and shrunk 
into Nothing, in proportion as the Goddess disappeared. At 
the same time the whole Temple sunk, the Fish betook them¬ 
selves to the Streams, and the wild Beasts to the Woods; 
the Fountains recovered their Murmurs, the Birds their Voices, 
the Trees their Leaves, the Flowers their Scents, and the whole 
Face of Nature its true and genuine Appearance. Tho' I still 
continued asleep, I fancied my self as it were awakened out of 
a Dream, when I saw this Region of Prodigies restored to 
Woods and Rivers, Fields and Meadows. 

Upon the Removal of that wild Scene of Wonders, which 
had very much disturbed my Imagination, I took a full Survey 
of the Persons of Wit and Truth; for indeed it was impossible 
to look upon the first, without seeing the other at the same 
time. There was behind them a strong and compact Body of 
Figures. The Genius of Heroic Poetry appeared with a Sword 
in her Hand, and a Lawrel on her Head. Tragedy was crowned 
with a Cypress, and covered with Robes dipped in Blood. 
Satyr had Smiles in her Look, and a Dagger under her Garment. 
Rhetorick was known by her Thunderbolt; and Comedy by her 
Mask. After several other Figures, Epigram marched up in 
the Rear, who had been posted there at the Beginning of the 
Expedition, that he might not revolt to the Enemy, whom he 
was suspected to favour in his Heart. I was very much awed 



198 THE SPECTATOR No. 63. Saturday, May 12, 1711 

and delighted with the Appearance of the God of Wit] there 
was something so amiable and yet so piercing in his Looks, as 
inspired me at once with Love and Terror. As I was gazing 
on him to my unspeakable Joy, he took a Quiver of Arrows 
from his Shoulder, in order to make me a Present of it; but as 
I was reaching out my Hand to receive it of him, I knocked it 
against a Chair, and by that means awaked. C 


No. 64. 

[STEELE.] Monday, May 14 

. . . Hie vivinius ambitiosa 
Paupertate otnnes . . .—Juv. 

The most improper things we commit in the Conduct of our 
Lives, we are led into by the Force of Fashion. Instances 
might be given, in which a prevailing Custom makes us act 
against the Rules of Nature, Law, and common Sense: But at 
present I shall confine my Consideration of the Effect it has 
upon Men’s Minds, by looking into our Behaviour when it is the 
Fashion to go into Mourning. The Custom of representing the 
Grief we have for the Loss of the Dead by our Habits, certainly 
had its Rise from the real Sorrow of such as were too much 
distressed to take the proper Care they ought of their Dress. 
By Degrees it prevailed, that such as had thi.s inward Oppres¬ 
sion upon their Minds, made an Apology for not joining with the 
rest of the World in their ordinary Diversions, by a Dress 
suited to their Condition. This therefore was at first assumed 
by such only as were under real Distress, to whom it was a 
Relief that they had nothing about them so light and gay as to 
be irksome to the Gloom and Melancholy of their inward Re¬ 
flections, or that might misrepresent them to others. In 
Process of Time this laudable Distinction of the Sorrowful 
was lost, and Mourning is now worn by Heirs and Widows. 
You see nothing but Magnificence and Solemnity in the 
Equipage of the Relict, and an Air of Release from Servitude 
in the Pomp of a Son who has lost a wealthy Father. This 
Fashion of Sorrow is now become a generous Part of the 
Ceremonial between Princes and Sovereigns, who in the 
Language of all Nations are stiled Brothers to each other, and 
put on the Purple upon the Death of any Potentate with whom 
they live in Amity. Courtiers, and all who wish themselves 
such, are immediately seized -with Grief from Head to Foot 
upon this Disaster to their Prince; so that one may know by 
the very Buckles of a Gentleman-Usher, what Degree of Friend- 



No. 64. Monday, May 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 199 

ship any deceased Monarch maintained with the Court to which 
he belongs. A good Courtier's Habit and Behaviour is hiero- 
glyphical on these Occasions: He deals much in Whispers, and 
you may see he dresses according to the best Intelligence. 

The general Affectation among Men, of appearing greater 
than they are, makes the whole World run into the Habit of 
the Court. You see the Lady, who the Day before was as 
various as a Rainbow, upon the Time appointed for beginning 
to mourn, as dark as a Cloud. This Humour does not prevail 
only on those whose Fortunes can support any Change in their 
Equipage, not on those only whose Incomes demand the 
Wantonness of new Appearances; but on such also who have 
just enough to cloath them. An old Acquaintance of mine, of 
Ninety Pounds a Year, who has naturally the Vanity of being 
a Man of Fashion deep at his Heart, is very much put to it to 
bear the Mortality of Princes. He made a new black Suit 
upon the Death of the King of Spain, he turned it for the 
King of Portugal, and he now keeps his Chamber while it is 
scowring for the Emperor. He is a good Oeconomist in his 
Extravagance, and makes only a fresh black Button upon his 
iron-grey Suit for any Potentate of small Territories; he indeed 
adds his Crape Hatband for a Prince whose Exploits he has 
admired in the Gazette. But whatever Compliments may be 
made on these Occasions, the true Mourners are the Mercers, 
Silkmen, Lacemen and Milliners. A Prince of a merciful and 
royal Disposition would reflect with great Anxiety upon the 
Prospect of his Death, if he considered what Numbers would 
be reduced to Misery by that Accident only: He would think 
it of Moment enough to direct, that in the Notification of his 
Departure, the Honour done to him might be restrained to 
those of the Houshold of the Prince to whom it should be 
signified. He would think a general Mourning to be in a less 
Degree the same Ceremony which is practised in barbarous 
Nations, of killing their Slaves to attend the Obsequies of 
their Kings. 

I had been wonderfully at a Loss for many Months together, 
to guess at the Character of a Man who came now and then to 
our Coffee-house: He ever ended a News-paper with this Re¬ 
flexion, Well, I see all the Foreign Princes are in good Health. 
If you asked. Pray, Sir, What says the Postman from Vienna? 
he answered. Make us thankful, the German Princes are all well: 
What does he say from Barcelona? He does not speak but that 
the Country agrees very well with the new Queen. After very 
much Enquiry, I found this Man of universal Loyalty was a 
wholesale Dealer in Silks and Ribbons: His Way is, it seems, 
if he hires a Weaver or Workman, to have it inserted in his 



200 THE specta tor No. 64. Monday, May 14, 17ii 

Articles, 'That all this shall be well and truly performed, 
provided no foreign Potentate shall depart this Life within the 
Time above-mentioned.’ It happens in all publick Mournings, 
that the many Trades which depend upon our Habits, are dur¬ 
ing that Folly either pinched with present Want, or terrified 
with the apparent Approach of it. All the Atonement which 
Men can make for wanton Expences (which is a Sort of insult¬ 
ing the Scarcity under which others labour) is, that the Super¬ 
fluities of the Wealthy give Supplies to the Necessities of the 
Poor; but instead of any other Good arising from the Affecta¬ 
tion of being in courtly Habits of Mourning, all Order seems 
to be destroyed by it; and the true Honour, which one Court 
does to another on that Occasion, loses its Force and Efficacy. 
When a foreign Minister beholds the Court of a Nation (which 
flourishes in Riches and Plenty) lay aside, upon the Loss of his 
Master, all Marks of Splendor, and Magnificence, though the 
head of such a joyful People, he will conceive a greater Idea of 
the Honour done his Master, than when he sees the Generality 
of the People in the same Habit. When one is afraid to ask 
the Wife of a Tradesman whom she has lost of her Family; 
and after some Preparation endeavours to know whom she 
mourns for; how ridiculous is it to hear her explain her self. 
That we have lost one of the House of Austria} Princes are 
elevated so highly above the rest of Mankind, that it is a pre¬ 
sumptuous Distinction to take a Part in Honours done to their 
Memories, except we have authority for it, by being related in a 
particular Manner to the Court which pays that Veneration 
to their Friendship; and seems to express on such an Occasion 
the Sense of the Uncertainty of human Life in general, by 
assuming the Habit of Sorrow though in the full Possession of 
Triumph and Royalty. R 


No. 65. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, May 15. 

. , . Demetri, teque, Tigelli, 

Discipularum inter jubeo plorare cathedras, —Hor. 

After having at large explained what Wit is, and described 
the false Appearances of it, all that Labour seems but an use¬ 
less Enquiry, without some Time be spent in considering the 
Application of it. The Seat of Wit, when one speaks as a 
Man of the Town and the World, is the Play-house; I shall 
therefore fill this Paper with Reflections upon the Use of it 
in that Place. The Application of Wit in the Theatre has as 



No. 65. Tuesday, May 15, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 201 

strong an Effect upon the Manners of our Gentlemen, as the 
Taste of it has upon the Writings of our Authors. It may, 
perhaps, look like a very presumptuous Work, though not 
Foreign from the Duty of a Spectator, to tax the Writings of 
such as have long had the general Applause of a Nation: But 
I shall always make Reason, Truth, and Nature the Measures 
of Praise and Dispraise; if those are for me, the Generality of 
Opinion is of no Consequence against me; if they are against 
me, the general Opinion cannot long support me. 

Without further Preface, I am going to look into some of our 
most applauded Plays, and see whether they deserve the Figure 
they at present bear in the Imaginations of Men, or not. 

In reflecting upon these Works, 1 shall chiefly dwell upon that 
for which each respective Play is most celebrated. The present 
Paper shall be employed upon Sir Foplin Flutter. The re¬ 
ceived Character of this Play is. That it is the Pattern of Gen¬ 
tile Comedy. Dorimant and Harriot are the Characters of 
greatest Consequence, and if these are Low and Mean, the 
Reputation of the Play is very Unjust. 

I will take for granted, that a fine Gentleman should be honest 
in his Actions, and refined in his Language. Instead of this, 
our Hero, in this Piece, is a direct Knave in his Designs, and a 
Clown in his Language. Bellair is his Admirer and Friend; in 
return for which, because he is forsooth a greater Wit than his 
said Friend, he thinks it reasonable to perswade him to Marry 
a young Lady, whose Virtue, he thinks, will last no longer than 
till she is a Wife, and then she cannot but fall to his Share, 
as he is an irresistible fine Gentleman. The Falshood to Mrs. 
Loveit, and the Barbarity of Triumphing over her Anguish 
for losing him, is another Instance of his Honesty, as well as 
his good Nature. As to his fine Language; he calls the Orange 
Woman, who, it seems, is inclined to grow Fat, A n Over-grown 
Jade, with a Flasket of Guts before her\ and salutes her with a 
pretty Phrase of, How now, Double Tripe ? Upon the Mention 
of a Country Gentlewoman, whom he knows nothing of, (no one 
can imagine why) he will lay his Life she is some awkward, 
ill-fashioned Country Toad, who not having above four dozen of 
Hairs on her Head, has adorned her baldness with a large white 
Fruz, that she may look Sparkishly in the Fore-front of the King's 
Box at an old Play. Unnatural Mixture of senseless Common 
Place! 

As to the Generosity of his Temper, he tells his poor Foot¬ 
man, If he did not wait better -he would turn him away, in 

the insolent Phrase of, I ’ll Uncase you. 

Now for Mrs. Harriot: She laughs at Obedience to an absent 
Mother, whose Tenderness Busie describes to be very exquisite, 



202 THE SPECTATOR No. 65. Tuesday, May 15. 1711 

for that she is so pleased with finding Harriot again, that she 
cannot chide her for being out of the Way. This Witty Daughter, 
and Fine Lady, has so little Respect for this good Woman, 
that she Ridicules her Air in taking Leave, and cries. In what 
Struggle is my poor Mother yonder ? See, see, her Head tottering, 
her Eyes staring, and her under Lip trembling. But all this is 
atoned for, because she has more Wit than is usual in her Sex, 
and as much Malice, though she is as wild as you would wish her, 
and has a Demureness in her Looks that makes it so surprising! 
Then to recommend her as a ht Spouse for his Hero, the Poet 
makes her speak her Sense of Marriage very ingeniously: / 
think, says she, I might be brought to endure him, and that is all 
a reasonable Woman should expect in an Husband. It is, me- 
thinks, unnatural that we are not made to understand how 
she that was bred under a silly pious old Mother, that would 
never trust her out of her sight, came to be so Polite. 

It cannot be denied, but that the Negligence of every thing, 
which engages the Attention of the sober and valuable Part of 
Mankind, appears very well drawn in this Piece: But it is 
denied, that it is necessary to the Character of a Fine Gentle¬ 
man, that he should in that manner Trample upon all Order 
and Decency. As for the Character of Dorimant, it is more of 
a Coxcomb than that of Foplin. He says of one of his Com¬ 
panions, that a good Correspondence between them is their 
mutual Interest. Speaking of that Friend, he declares, their 
being much together makes the Women think the better of his 
Understanding, and judge more favourably of my Reputation. 
It makes him pass upon some for a Man of very good Sense, and 
me upon others for a very civil Person. 

This whole celebrated Piece is a perfect Contradiction to 
good Manners, good Sense, and common Honesty; and as 
there is nothing in it but what is built upon the Ruin of Virtue 
and Innocence, according to the Notion of Merit in this 
Comedy, I take the Shooe-maker to be, in reality, the Fine 
Gentleman of the Play: For it seems he is an Atheist, if we may 
depend upon his Character as given by the Orange-Woman, 
who is her self far from being the lowest in the Play. She 
says of a Fine Man who is Dorimant's Companion, There is not 
such another Heathen in the Town, except the Shooe-maker. His 
Pretention to be the Hero of the Drama appears still more in 
his own Description of his way of Living with his Lady. 
There is, says he, never a Man in Town lives more like a Gentle¬ 
man with his Wife than I do; I never mind her Motions; she 
never enquires into mine. We speak to one another civilly, hate 
one another heartily: and because it is Vulgar to Lye arid Soak 
together, we have each of us our several Settle-Bed. That of 



No. 65. Tuesdayt May 15, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 203 

Soaking together is as good as if Dorimant had spoken it himself; 
and, I think, since he puts human Nature in as ugly a Form as 
the Circumstance will bear, and is a stanch Unbeliever, he is 
very much Wronged in having no part of the good Fortune 
bestowed in the last Act. 

To speak plainly of this whole Work, I think nothing but 
being lost to a Sense of Innocence and Virtue can make any 
one see this Comedy, without observing more frequent Occa¬ 
sion to move Sorrow and Indignation, than Mirth and Laughter. 
At the same time I allow it to bo Nature, but it is Nature in its 
utmost Corruption and Degeneracy. R 


No. 66. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, May x6. 

Motus doceri gaudet lonicos 
Maiura virgo, fingitur artihus 
Jam nunc 6* incestos amores 

De tenero meditatur ungui. —Hor. 

The two following Letters are upon a Subject of very great 
Importance, tho' expressed without any Air of Gravity. 

* To the Spectator. 

Sir, 

I take the Freedom of asking your Advice in Behalf of a 
Young Country Kinswoman of mine who is lately come to 
Town, and under my Care for her Education. She is very 
pretty, but you can’t imagine how unformed a Creature it is. 
She comes to my Hands just as Nature left her, half finished, 
and without any acquired Improvements. When I look on 
her I often think of the Belle Sauvage mentioned in one of your 
Papers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help me to make her com¬ 
prehend the visible Graces of Speech, and the dumb Eloquence 
of Motion; for she is at present a perfect Stranger to both. She 
knows no Way to express her self but by her Tongue, and that 
always to signifie her Meaning. Her Eyes serve her yet only to 
see with, and she is utterly a Foreigner to the Language of 
Looks and Glances. In this I fancy you could Tielp her better 
than any Body. I have bestowed two Months in teaching her 
to Sigh when she is not concerned, and to Smile when she is 
not pleased; and am ashamed to own she makes Uttle or no 
Improvement. Then she is no more able now to walk, than 
she was to go at a Year old. By Walking you will easily know 
I mean that regular but easie Motion, which gives our Persons 
so irresistible a Grace as if we moved to Musick, and is a kind 



204 THE SPECTATOR No. 66. Wednesday, May i6, 1711 

of disengaged Figure, or, if I may so speak, recitative Dancing. 
But the want of this I cannot blame in her, for I find she has no 
Ear, and means nothing by Walking but to change her Place. 
I could pardon too her Blushing, if she knew how to carry her 
self in it, and if it did not manifestly injure her Complexion. 

They tell me you are a Person who have seen the World, and 
you are a Judge of fine Breeding; which makes me ambitious 
of some Instructions from you for her Improvement: Which 
when you have favoured me with, I shall further advise with 
you about the Disposal of this fair Forrester in Marriage; for I 
will make it no Secret to you, that her Person and Education are 
to be her Fortune. 

I am, Sir, 

Your very Humble Servant, 

CELIMENE.' 

* Sir, 

Being employed by Celimene to make up and send to you her 
Letter, I make bold to recommend the Case therein mentioned 
to your Consideration, because she and I happen to differ a 
little in our Notions. I, who am a rough Man, am afraid the 
young Girl is in a fair Way to be spoiled: Therefore pray, Mr. 
Spectator, let us have your Opinion of this fine thing called 
Fine Breeding', for I am afraid it differs too much from that 
plain thing called Good Breeding. 

Your most humble Servant.’ 

The general Mistake among us in the Educating our Children, 
is, That in our Daughters we take Care of their Persons and 
neglect their Minds; in our Sons, we are so intent upon adorn¬ 
ing their Minds, that we wholly neglect their Bodies. It is 
from this that you shall see a young Lady Celebrated and 
admired in all the Assemblies about Town; when her elder 
Brother is afraid to come into a Room. From this ill Manage¬ 
ment it arises, That we frequently observe a Man’s Life is 
half spent before he is taken Notice of; and a Woman in the 
Prime of her Years is out of Fashion and neglected. The Boy 
I shall consider upon some other Occasion, and at present 
stick to the Girl: And I am the more inclined to this, because 
I have several Letters which complain to me that my Female 
Readers have not understood me for some Days last past, and 
take themselves to be unconcerned in the present Turn of my 
Writings. When a Girl is safely brought from her Nurse, 
before she is capable of forming one simple Notion of any thing 
in Life, she is delivered to the Hands of her Dancing-Master; 
and with a Collar round her Neck, the pretty wild Thing is 



No. 66. Wednesday, May i6,1711 THE SPECTATOR 205 

taught a fantastical Gravity of Behaviour, and forced to a 
particular Way of holding her Head, heaving her Breast, and 
moving with he» whole Body; and all this under Pain of never 
having an Husband, if she steps, looks or moves awry. This 
gives the young Lady wonderful Workings of Imagination, 
what is to pass between her and this Husband, that she is 
every Moment told of, and for whom she seems to be educated. 
Thus her Fancy is engaged to turn all her Endeavours to the 
Ornament of her Person, as what must determine her Good and 
Ill in this Life; and she naturally thinks, if she is tall enough, 
she is wise enough for any thing for which her Education 
makes her think she is designed. To make her an agreeable 
Person is the main Purpose of her Parents; to that is all their 
Cost, to that all their Care directed; and from this general 
Folly of Parents we owe our present numerous Pace of Coquets. 
These Reflections puzzle me, when I think of giving my 
Advice on the Subject of managing the wild Thing mentioned 
in the Letter of my Correspondent. But sure there is a middle 
Way to be followed; the Management of a young Lady's Per¬ 
son is not to be overlooked, but the Erudition of her Mind is 
much more to be regarded. According as this is managed, you 
will see the Mind follow the Appetites of the Body, or the Body 
express the Virtues of the Mind. 

Cleomira dances with all the Elegance of Motion imaginable; 
but her Eyes are so chastised with the Simplicity and Innocence 
of her Thoughts, that she raises in her Beholders Admiration 
and good Will, but no loose Hope or wild Imagination. The 
true Art in this Case is. To make the Mind and Body improve 
together; and if possible, to make Gesture follow Thought, 
and not let Thought be employed upon Gesture. R 


No. 67. 

[BUDGELL.] Thursday, May 17. 

Saltare elegantius quam necesse est probae. —Sal. 

Lucian, in one of his Dialogues, introduces a Philosopher 
chiding his Friend for his being a Lover of Dancing, and a 
Frequenter of Balls. The other undertakes the Defence of his 
Favourite Diversion, which, he says, was at first invented by 
the Goddess Rhea, and preserved the Life of Jupiter himself, 
from the Cruelty of his Father Saturn. He proceeds to shew, 
that it had been approved by the greatest Men in all ages; that 
Homer calls Merion a Fine Dancer ’, and says. That the graceful 
Mein and great Agility which he had acquired by that Exercise, ^ 



2 o 6 the spectator No. 67. Thursday, May 17, 1711 

distinguished him above the rest in the Armies, both of Greeks 
and Trojans. 

He adds, that Pyrrhus gained more Reputation by Invent¬ 
ing the Dance which is called after his Name, than by all his 
other Actions: That the Lacedemonians, who were the bravest 
People in Greece, gave great Encouragement to this Diversion, 
and made their Hormus (a Dance much resembling the French 
Brawl) famous over all Asia: That there were still extant some 
Thessalian Statues erected to the Honour of their best Dancers: 
And that he wondred how his Brother Philosopher could 
declare himself against the Opinions of those two Persons, 
whom he professed so much to Admire, Homer and Hesiod: 
the latter of which compares Valour and Dancing together; and 
says. That ihe Gods have bestowed Fortitude on some Men, 
and on others a Disposition for Dancing. 

Lastly, He puts him in mind that Socrates (who, in the 
Judgment of Apollo, was the Wisest of Men) was not only a 
professed Admirer of this Exercise in others, but learned it 
himself when he was an old Man. 

The Morose Philosopher is so much affected by these, and 
some other Authorities, that he becomes a Convert to his 
Friend, and desires he would take him with him when he went 
to his next Ball. 

I love to shelter my self under the Examples of great Men; 
and, I think, I have sufficiently shewed that it is not below the 
Dignity of these my Speculations, to take Notice of the follow¬ 
ing Letter, which, I suppose, is sent me by some substantial 
Tradesman about Change. 

‘ Sir, 

I am a Man in Years, and by an honest Industry in the World 
have acquired enough to give my Children a hberal Educa¬ 
tion, though I was an utter Stranger to it my self. My eldest 
Daughter, a Girl of Sixteen, has for some time been under the 
Tuition of Monsieur Rigadoon, a Dancing-Master in the City; 
and I was prevailed upon by her and her Mother to go last 
Night to one of his Balls. I must own to you. Sir, that having 
never been at any such Place before, I was very much pleased 
and surprized with that part of his Entertainment which he 
called French Dancing, There were several young Men and 
Women, whose Limbs seemed to have no other Motion, but 
purely what the Musick gave them. After this Part was over, 
they began a Diversion which they call Country Dancing, 
and wherein there were also some things not disagreeable, and 
divers Emblematical Figures, Composed, as I guess, by Wise 
Men, for the Instruction of Youth, 



No. 67. Thursday, May 17, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 207 

Among the rest I observed one, which, I think, they call 
Hunt the Squirrel, in which while the Woman flies the Man 
pursues her, but as s©on as she turns, he runs away, and she is 
obliged to follow. 

The Moral of this Dance does, I think, very aptly recom¬ 
mend Modesty and Discretion to the Female Sex. 

But as the best Institutions are liable to Corruptions, so, Sir, 
I must acquaint you, that very great Abuses are crept into this 
Entertainment. I was amazed to see my Girl handed by, and 
handing young Fellows with so much Familiarity; and I could 
not have thought it had been in the Child. They have often 
made use of a most impudent and lascivious Step called Setting, 
which I know not how to describe to you, but by telling you 
that it is the very reverse of Back to Back. At last an impudent 
young Dog bid the Fidlers play a Dance called Mol. Palely, 
and aker having made two or three Capers, ran to his Partner, 
locked his Arms in hers, and whisked her round cleverly 
above Ground in such manner, that I, who sate upon one of the 
lowest Benches, saw further above her Shooe than I can think 
fit to acquaint you with. 1 could no longer endure these 
Enormities, wherefore just as my Girl was going to be made a 
Whirligig, I ran in, seized on the Child, and carried her home. 

Sir, I am not yet old enough to be a Fool. I suppose thi.s 
Diversion might be at first invented to keep up a good Under¬ 
standing between young Men and Women, and so far I am not 
against it; but I shall never allow of these things. I know not 
what you will say to this Case at present, but am sure that 
had you been with me you would have seen matter of great 
Speculation. I am. 

Yours, &c.' 

I must confess I am afraid that my Correspondent had too 
much Reason to be a little out of Humour at the Treatment of 
his Daughter, but I conclude that he would have been much 
more so, had he seen one of those kissing Dances in which Will 
Honeycomb assures me they are obliged to dwell almost a 
Minute on the Fair One’s Lips, or they will be too quick for 
the Musick, and dance quite out of Time. 

I am not able however to give my final Sentence against 
this Diversion; and am of Mr. Cowley’s Opinion, that so much 
of Dancing, at least, as belongs to the Behaviour and an 
handsome Carriage of the Body, is extreamly useful, if not 
absolutely necessary. 

We generally form such Ideas of People at first Sight, as we are 
hardly ever perswaded to lay aside afterwards: For this Reason, 
a Man would wish to have nothing disagreeable or uncomely 



2o8 the spectator No. 67. Thursday, May 17, 17H 

in his Approaches, and to be able to enter a Room with a 
good Grace. 

I might add, that a moderate Knowledge in the little Rules 
of Good-breeding gives a Man some Assurance, and makes 
him easy in all Companies. For Want of this, I have seen a 
Professor of a Liberal Science at a Loss to salute a Lady; and 
a most excellent Mathematician not able to determine whether 
he should stand or sit while my Lord drank to him. 

It is the proper Business of a Dancing Master to regulate 
these Matters; tho* I take it to be a just Observation, that un¬ 
less you add something of your own to what these fine Gentle¬ 
men teach you, and which they are wholly ignorant of them¬ 
selves, you will much sooner get the Character of an Affected 
Fop, than of a Well-bred Man. 

As for Country Dancing, it must indeed be confessed, that 
the great Familiarities between the two Sexes on this Occasion 
may sometimes produce very dangerous Consequences; and I 
have often thought that few Ladies’ Hearts are so obdurate 
as not to be melted by the Charms of Musick, the Force of 
Motion, and an handsome young Fellow who is continually 
playing before their Eyes, and convincing them that he has 
the perfect Use of all his Limbs. 

But as this kind of Dance is the particular Invention of our 
own Country, and as every one is more or less a Proficient in it, 
I would not Discountenance it; but rather suppose it may be 
practised innocently by others, as well as my self, who am often 
Partner to my Landlady’s Eldest Daughter. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Having heard a good Character of the Collection of Pictures 
which is to be exposed to Sale on Friday next; and concluding, 
from the following Letter, that the Person who Collected them 
is a Man of no unelegant Taste, I will be so much his Friend 
as to Publish it, provided the Reader will only look upon it as 
filling up the Place of an Advertisement. 

* From the Three Chairs in the Piazza Covent-Garden. 

5*r, May 16, 1711. 

As you are a Spectator, I think we, who make it our 
Business to exhibit any thing to publick View, ought to apply 
our selves to you for your Approbation. I have travelled 
Europe to furnish out a Show for you, and have brought with 
me what has been admired in every Country thro’ which I 
passed. You have declared in many Papers, that your greatest 



No.tj. Thursday, May 17, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 209 

Delights are those of the Eye, which I do not doubt but I shall 
gratifie with as Beautiful Objects as yours ever beheld. If 
Castles, Forests, Ruins, Fine Women, and Graceful Men, can 
please you, 1 dare promise you much Satisfaction, if you will 
appear nt my Auction on Friday next. A Sight is, I suppose, 
as grateful to a Spectator, as a Treat to another Person, and 
therefore 1 hope you will pardon this Invitation from. 

Sir, 

Your most Obedient 

Humble Servant, 

J. GRAPIAM.' 


No. 68. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, May l3. 

Nos duo turba sumus . . .—Ovid. 

One would think that the larger the Company is in which we 
are engaged, the greater Variety of Thoughts and Subjects 
would be started in Discourse; but instead of this, we find that 
Conversation is never so much streightned and confined as in 
numerous Assemblies. When a Multitude meet together upon 
any Subject of Discourse, their Debates are taken up chiefly 
with Forms and general Positions; nay, if we come into a more 
contracted Assembly of Men and Women, the Talk generally 
runs upon the Weather, Fashions, News, and the like publick 
Topicks. In proportion, as Conversation gets into Clubs and 
Knots of Friends, it descends into Particulars, and grows more 
free and communicative: But the most open, instructive, and 
unreserved Discourse, is that which passes between two Per¬ 
sons who are familiar and intimate Friends. On these Occa¬ 
sions, a Man gives a Loose to every Passion and every Thought 
that is uppermost, discovers his most retired Opinions of Per¬ 
sons and Things, tries the Beauty and Strength of his Sentiments, 
and expenses his whole Soul to the Examination of his Friend. 

Tully was the first who observed, that Friendship improves 
Happiness and abates Misery, by the doubling of our Joy and 
dividing of our Grief; a Thought in which he hath been followed 
by all the Essayers upon Friendship, that have written since 
his Time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely described other 
Advantages, or, as he calls them. Fruits of Friendship; and 
indeed there is no Subject of Morality which has been better 
handled and more exhausted than this. Among the several 
fine things which have been spoken of it, I shall beg Leave to 
quote some out of a very ancient Author, whose Book would be 



210 THE SPECTATOR No. 68. Friday, May i8, 1711 

regarded by our Modern Wits as one of the most shining Tracts 
of Morality that is extant, if it appeared under the Name of a 
Confucius, or of any celebrated Grecian Philosopher: I mean 
the little Apocryphal Treatise entitled, The Wisdom of the Son 
of Sirach. How finely has he described the Art of making 
Friends, by an obliging and affable Behaviour ? And laid down 
that Precept which a late excellent Author has delivered as his 
own,'Thatwe should have many Well-wishers, but few Friends.' 
Sweet Language will multiply Friends; and a fair-speaking 
Tongue will encrease kind Greetings. Be in Peace with many, 
nevertheless have but one Counsellor of a thousand. With what 
Prudence does he caution us in the Choice of our Friends? 
And with what Strokes of Nature (I could almost say of 
Humour) has he described the Behaviour of a treacherous and 
self-interested Friend ? If thou would’st get a Friend, prove him 
first, and he not hasty to credit him: For some Man is a Friend 
for his own Occasion, and will not abide in the Day of thy Trouble. 
And there is a Friend who being turned to Enmity and Strife will 
discover thy reproach. Again, Some Friend is a Companion at 
the Table, and will not continue in the Day of thy Affliction: 
But in thy Prosperity he will be as thy self, and will be bold over 
thy Servants. If thou be brought low he will be against thee, and 
hide himself from thy Face. What can be more strong and 
pointed than the following Verse ? Separate thy self from thine 
Enemies, and take heed of thy Friends. In the next Words he 
particularizes one of those Fruits of Friendship which is de¬ 
scribed at length by the two famous Authors above-mentioned, 
and falls into a general Elogium of Friendship, which is very 
just as well as very sublime. A faithful Friend is a strong 
Defence: and he that hath found such an one, hath found a 
Treasure. Nothing doth countervail a faithful Friend, and his 
Excellency is unvaluable. A faithful Friend is the Medicine of 
Life: arid they that fear the Lord shall find him. Whoso feareth 
the Lord shall direct his Friendship aright; for as he is, so shall his 
Neighbour (that is his Friend) be also. I do not remember to 
have met with any Saying that has pleased me more than that 
of a Friend's being the Medicine of Life, to express the Efficacy 
of Friendship in healing the Pains and Anguish which naturally 
cleave to our Existence in this World; and am wonderfully 
pleased with the Turn in the last Sentence, That a virtuous 
Man shall as a Blessing meet with a Friend who is as virtuous 
as himself. There is another Saying in the same Author, 
which would have been very much admired in an Heathen 
Writer; Forsake not an old Friend, for the new is not comparable 
to him: A new Friend is as new Wine; when it is old thou shall 
drink it with Pleasure. With what Strength of Allusion, and 



No. 68. Friday, May i8. 1711 THE SPECTATOR 211 

Force of Thought, has he described the Breaches and Viola¬ 
tions of Friendship ? Whoso casteih a Stone at the Birds frayeth 
them away: and he that uphraideth his Friend, hreaketh Friend¬ 
ship. Tho* thou drawest a Sword at a Friend yet despair not, 
for there may he a returning to Favour: If thou hast opened thy 
Mouth against thy Friend fear not, for there may he a Reconcilia¬ 
tion; except for upbraiding, or Pride, or disclosing of Secrets, or a 
treacherous Wound; for, for these things every Friend will depart. 
We may observe in this and several other Precepts in this 
Author, those little familiar Instances and Illustrations which 
are so much admired in the moral Writings of Horace and 
Epictetus. There are very beautiful Instances of this Nature 
in the following Passages, which are likewise written upon the 
same Subject; Whoso discovereth Secrets loseth his Credit, and 
shall never find a Friend to his Mind. Love thy Friend, and be 
faithful unto him; but if thou bewrayest his Secrets, follow no 
more after him: For as a Man hath destroyed his Enemy, so 
hast thou lost the Love of thy Friend: as one that letteth a Bird go 
out of his Hand, so hast thou let thy Friend go, and shall not get 
him again: Follow after him no more, for he is too far off; he is 
as a Roe escaped out of the Snare. As for a Wound, it may be 
bound up, and after reviling there may be Reconciliation ; but he 
that bewrayeth Secrets, is without Hope. 

Among the several Qualifications of a good Friend, this wise 
Man has very justly singled out Constancy and Faithfulness 
as the principal: To these, others have added Virtue, Know¬ 
ledge, Discretion, Equality in Age and Fortune, and as Cicero 
calls it, Morum Comitas, a Pleasantness of Temper. If I were 
to give my Opinion upon such an exhausted Subject, I should 
join to these other Qualifications a certain Aequability or 
Evenness of Behaviour. A Man often contracts a Friendship 
with one whom perhaps he does not find out till after a 
Year's Conversation; when on a sudden some latent ill Humour 
breaks out upon him, which he never discovered or suspected 
at his first entering into an Intimacy with him. There are 
several Persons who in some certain Periods of their Lives are 
inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as odious and detestable. 
Martial has given us a very pretty Picture of one of this Species 
in the following Epigram: 

Difficilis, facilis, jucundus, acerbus cs idem, 

Nec tecum possum vivere, nec sine te. 

In all thy Humours, whether grave or mellow, 

Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant Fellow; 

Hast so much Wit, and Mirth, and Spleen about thee. 

There is no living with thee, nor without thee. 



212 THE SPECTATOR No. 68. Friday, May i8, 1711 

It is very unlucky for a Man to be entangled in a Friendship 
with one, who by these Changes and Vicissitudes of Humour 
is sometimes amiable and sometimes odious: And as most Men 
are at some Times in an admirable Frame and Disposition of 
Mind, it should be one of the greatest Tasks of Wisdom to 
keep our selves well when we are so, and never to go out of that 
which is the agreeable Part of our Character. C 


No. 69. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, May 19. 

Hie segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvae ; 

Arborei foetus alibi atque injussa virescunt 
Gramina. Nonne vides, croceos ut Tniolus odores, 

India niittit ebur, molles sua thura Sabaei? 

At Chalybes nudi ferrum, virosaque Pontus 
Castorea, Eliadum palmas Epirus equarum? 

Continuo has leges aeternaque foedera certis 
Imposuit Natura locis . . .—^Virg. 

There is no Place in the Town which I so much love to frequent 
as the Royal Exchange. It gives me a secret Satisfaction, and, 
in some measure, gratifies my Vanity, as I am an Englishman, 
to see so rich an Assembly of Country-men and Foreigners 
consulting together upon the private Business of Mankind, 
and making this Metropolis a kind of Emporium for the whole 
Earth. I must confess I look upon High-Change to be a great 
Council, in which all considerable Nations have their Repre¬ 
sentatives. Factors in the Trading World are what Ambassa¬ 
dors are in the Politick World; they negotiate Affairs, conclude 
Treaties, and maintain a good Correspondence between those 
wealthy Societies of Men that are divided from one another by 
Seas and Oceans, or live on the different Extremities of a 
Continent. I have often been pleased to hear Disputes 
adjusted between an Inhabitant of Japan and an Alderman 
of London, or to see a Subject of the Great Mogul entering into a 
League with one of the Czar of Muscovy. I am infinitely de¬ 
lighted in mixing with these several Ministers of Commerce, 
as they are distinguished by their different Walks and different 
Languages; Sometimes I am justled among a Body of Armen¬ 
ians \ Sometimes I am lost in a Crowd of Jews \ and sometimes 
make one in a Groupe of Dutch-men. I am a Dane, Swede, or 
Frenchman at different times,' or rather fancy my self like the 
old Philosopher, who upon being asked what Country-man he 
was, replied. That he was a Citizen of the World, 



No. 69. Saturday, May 19, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 213 

Though I very frequently visit this busie Multitude of 
People, I am known to no Body there but my Friend Sir 
Andrew, who often smiles upon me as he sees me bustling in 
the Croud, but at the same time connives at my Presence with¬ 
out taking any further Notice of me. There is indeed a Mer¬ 
chant of Egypt, who just knows me by sight, having formerly 
remitted me some Mony to Grand Cairo’, but as I am not versed 
in the Modern Coptick, our Conferences go no further than a 
Bow and a Grimace. 

This grand Scene of Business gives me an infinite Variety of 
solid and substantial Entertainments. As I am a great Lover 
of Mankind, my Heart naturally overflows with Pleasure at 
the sight of a prosperous and happy Multitude, insomuch that 
at many publick Solemnities I cannot forbear expressing my 
Joy with Tears that have stoln down my Cheeks. For this 
Reason I am wonderfully delighted to see such a Body of Men 
thriving in their own private Fortunes, and at the same time 
promoting the Publick Stock; or in other Words, raising Estates 
for their own Families, by bringing into their Country whatever 
is wanting, and carrying out of it whatever is superfluous. 

Nature seems to have taken a particular Care to disseminate 
her Blessings among the different Regions of the World, with 
an Eye to this mutual Intercourse and Traffick among Mankind, 
that the Natives of the several Parts of the Globe might have a 
kind of Dependance upon one another, and be united together 
by their common Interest. Almost every Degree produces 
something peculiar to it. The Food often grows in one Coun¬ 
try, and the Sauce in another. The Fruits of Portugal are 
corrected by the Products of Barbadoes: The Infusion of a 
China Plant sweetned with the Pith of an Indian Cane. The 
Philippick Islands give a Flavour to our European Bowls. 
The single Dress of a Woman of Quality is often the Product 
of an Hundred Climates. The Muff and the Fan come together 
from the different Ends of the Earth. The Scarf is sent from 
the Torrid Zone, and the Tippet from beneath the Pole. The 
Brocade Petticoat rises out of the Mines of Peru, and the 
Diamond Necklace out of the Bowels of Indostan. 

If we consider our own Country in its natural Prospect, 
without any of the Benefits and Advantages of Commerce, 
what a barren uncomfortable Spot of Earth falls to our Share 1 
Natural Historians tell us, that no Fruit grows originally 
among us, besides Hips and Haws, Acorns and Pig-nutts, with 
other Delicacies of the like Nature; That our climate of it self, 
and without the Assistances of Art, can make no further 
Advances towards a Plumb than to a Sloe, and carries an 
Apple to no greater a Perfection than a Crab: That our Melons, 



214 THE SPECTATOR No. 6g. Saturday, May ig, 1711 

our Peaches, our Figs, our Apricots, and Cherries, are Strangers 
among us, imported in different Ages, and naturalized in our 
English Gardens: and that they would all degenerate and fall 
away into the Trash of our own Country, if they were wholly 
neglected by the Planter, and left to the Mercy of our Sun and 
Soil. Nor has Traflick more enriched our Vegetable World, 
than it has improved the whole Face of Nature among us. 
Our Ships are laden with the Harvest of every Climate: 
Our Tables are stored with Spices, and Oils, and Wines: Our 
Rooms are filled with Pyramids of China, and adorned with the 
Workmanship of Japan : Our Morning’s-Draught comes to us 
from the remotest Corners of the Earth: We repair our Bodies 
by the Drugs of America, and repose our selves under Indian 
Canopies. My Friend Sir Andrew calls the Vineyards of 
France our Gardens: the Spice-Islands our Hot-beds; the 
Persians our Silk-Weavers, and the Chinese our Potters. 
Nature indeed furnishes us with the bare Necessaries of Life, 
but Traffick gives us a great Variety of what is Useful, and at 
the same time supplies us with every thing that is Convenient 
and Ornamental. Nor is it the least Part of this our Happiness 
that whilst we enjoy the remotest Products of the North and 
South, we are free from those Extremities of Weather which 
give them Birth: That our Eyes are refreshed with the green 
Fields of Britain, at the same time that our Palates are feasted 
with Fruits that rise between the Tropicks. 

For these Reasons there are not more useful Members in a 
Commonwealth than Merchants. They knit Mankind together 
in a mutual Intercourse of good Offices, distribute the Gifts of 
Nature, find Work for the Poor, add Wealth to the Rich, and 
Magnificence to the Great. Our English Merchant converts 
the Tin of his own Country into Gold, and exchanges his Wooll 
for Rubies. The Mahometans are cloathed in our British 
Manufacture, and the Inhabitants of the Frozen Zone warmed 
with the Fleeces of our Sheep. 

When I have been upon the ’Change, I have often fancied 
one of our old Kings standing in Person, where he is represented 
in Effigy, and looking down upon the wealthy Concourse of 
People with which that Place is every Day filled. In this 
Case, how would he be surprized to hear all the Languages of 
Europe spoken in this little Spot of his former Dominions, and 
to see so many private Men, who in his Time would have been 
the Vassals of some powerful Baron, Negotiating like Princes 
for greater Sums of Mony than were formerly to be met with 
in the Royal Treasury 1 Trade, without enlarging the British 
Territories, has given us a kind of additional Empire: It has 
multiplied the Number of the Rich, made our Landed Estates 



No. 6 g. Saturday, May 19, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 215 

infinitely more Valuable than they were formerly, and added 
to them an Accession of other Estates as valuable as the Lands 
themselves. C 


No. 70. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, May 21. 

Interdum vulgus tectum videt. —Hor. 

When I travelled, I took a particular Delight in hearing the 
Songs and Fables that are come from Father to Son, and are 
most in vogue among the common People of the Countries 
through which I passed; for it is impossible that any thing 
should be universally tasted and approved by a Multitude, 
tho’ they are only the Rabble of a Nation, which hath not in it 
some peculiar Aptness to please and gratifie the Mind of Man. 
Human Nature is the same in all reasonable Creatures; and 
whatever falls in with it. will meet with Admirers amongst 
Readers of all Qualities and Conditions. Moliere, as we are 
told by Monsieur Boileau, used to read all his Comedies to an 
old Woman who was his House-keeper, as she sat with him 
at her Work by the Chimney-Corner; and could foretcl the 
Success of his Play in the Theatre, from the Reception it met 
at his Fire-Side: For he tells us the Audience always followed 
the old Woman, and never failed to laugh in the same Place. 

I know nothing which more shews the essential and inherent 
Perfection of Simplicity of Thought, above that which I call 
the Gothick Manner in Writing, than this, that the first pleases 
all Kinds of Palates, and the latter only such as have formed to 
themselves a wrong artificial Taste upon little fanciful Authors 
and Writers of Epigram. Homer, Virgil, or Milton, so far as 
the Language of their Poems is understood, will please a 
Reader of plain common Sense, who would neither relish nor 
comprehend an Epigram of Martial or a Poem of Cowley: 
So, on the contrary, an ordinary Song or Ballad that is the 
Delight of the common People, cannot fail to please all such 
Readers as are not unqualified for the Entertainment by their 
Affectation or Ignorance; and the Reason is plain, because the 
same Paintings of Nature which recommend it to the most 
ordinary Reader, will appear Beautiful to the most refined. 

The old Song of Chevy-Chase is the favourite Ballad of the 
common People of England’, and Ben Johnson used to say he 
had rather have been the Author of it than of all his Works. 
Sir Philip Sidney in his Discourse of Poetry speaks of it in the 
following Words; / never heard the old Song of Piercy and 
Douglas, that I found not my Heart more moved than with a 
I—H 



2i6 the spectator No. 70. Monday, May 21, 1711 

T rumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind Crowder with no rougher 
Voice than rude Stile; which being so evil apparelled in the Dust 
and Cobweb of that uncivil Age, what would it work trimmed in 
the gorgeous Eloquence of Pindar ? For my own Part, I am so 
professed an Admirer of this antiquated Song, that I shall 
give my Reader a Critick upon it, without any further Apology 
for so doing. 

The greatest Modern Criticks have laid it down as a Rule, 
That an Heroick Poem should be founded upon some im¬ 
portant Precept of Morality, adapted to the Constitution of 
the Country in which the Poet writes. Homer and Virgil 
have formed their Plans in this View. As Greece was a Col¬ 
lection of many Governments, who suffered very much among 
themselves, and gave the Persian Emperor, who was their 
common Enemy, many Advantages over them by their mutual 
Jealousies and Animosities, Homer, in order to establish among 
them an Union, which was so necessary for their Safety, 
grounds his Poem upon the Discords of the several Grecian 
Princes who were engaged in a Confederacy against an Asiatick 
Prince, and the several Advantages which the Enemy gained 
by such their Discords. At the Time the Poem we are now 
treating of was written, the Dissentions of the Barons, who were 
then 80 many petty Princes, ran very high, whether they 
quarrelled among themselves, or with their Neighbours, and 
produced unspeakable Calamities to the Country: The Poet, 
to deter Men from such unnatural Contentions, describes a 
bloody Battel and dreadful Scene of Death, occasioned by the 
mutual Feuds which reigned in the Families of an English 
and Scotch Nobleman. That he designed this for the Instruc¬ 
tion of his Poem, we may learn from his four last Lines, in 
which, after the Example of the modem Tragedians, he draws 
from it a Precept for the Benefit of his Readers. 

God save the King, and bless the Land 
In Plenty, Joy, and Peace: 

And grant henceforth that foul Debate 
‘Twixt Noblemen may cease. 

The next Point observed by the greatest Heroic Poets, hath 
been to celebrate Persons and Actions which do Honour to 
their Country: Thus VirgiVs Hero was the Founder of Rome, 
Homer's a Prince of Greece', and for this Reason Valerius 
Flaccus and Statius, who were both Romans, might be justly 
derided for having chosen the Expedition of the Golden Fleece, 
and the Wars of Thebes, for the Subjects of their Epic Writings. 

The Poet before us has not only found out an Hero in his 
own Country, but raises the Reputation of it by several 



No. 70. Monday, May 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 217 

beautiful Incidents. The English arc the first who take the 
Field, and the last who quit it. The English bring only 
Fifteen hundred to the Battel, the Scotch Two thousand. The 
English keep the Field with Fifty three: The Scotch retire with 
Fifty five: All the rest on each side being slain in Battel. But 
the most remarkable Circumstance of this Kind is the different 
Manner in which the Scotch and English Kings receive the News 
of this Fight, and of the great Men’s Deaths who commanded 
in it. 

This News was brought to Edinburgh, 

Where Scotland’s King did retgn, 

2 'hat brave Earl Douglas suddenly 
Was with an Arrow slain. 

O heavy News, King James did say, 

Scotland can Witness be, 

1 have not any Captain more 
Of such Account as he. 

Like Tydings to King Henry came 
Within as short a Space, 

That Picrcy of Northumberland 
Was slain in Chevy-Chace. 

Now God be with him, said our King, 

Sith ’twill no better be, 

I trust I have within my Realm 
Five hundred as good as he. 

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say 
But I will Vengeance take. 

And be revenged on them all 
For brave Lord Piercy's sake. 

This Vow full well the King perform’d 
After on Humble-down, 

In one Day fifty Knights were slain 
With Lords of great Renown. 

And of the rest of small Account 
Did many Thousands dye, &c. 

At the same time that our Poet shews a laudable Partiality to 
his Country-men, he represents the Scots after a Manner not 
unbecoming so bold and brave a People. 

Earl Douglas on a milk-white Steed, 

Most like a Baron bold, 

Rode foremost of the Company 
Whose Armour shone like Gold. 



2i8 the spectator No. 70. Monday, May 21, 1711 

His Sentiments and Actions are every Way suitable to an 
Hero. One of us two, says he, mu.st dye: I am an Earl as 
well as your self, so that you can have no Pretence for refusing 
the Combat: However, says he, 'tis Pity, and indeed would be 
a Sin, tiiat so many innocent Men should perish for our Sakes, 
rather let you and I end our Quarrel in single Fight. 

E'gy thus I will out-braved be, 

Otic of us tii'o shall dye: 

I hnotv thee well, an Earl thou art. 

Lord Piercy, so am /. 

But trust me, Piercy, Pity it were, 

And f>reat Offence, to kill 

Any of these our harmless Men, 

For they have done no 111 . 

Let thou and I the Battel try. 

And set our Men aside '. 

Accurst be he. Lord Piercy said. 

By whom this is deny'd. 

When these brave Men had distinguished themselves in the 
Battel and in single Combat with each other, in the Midst of a 
generous Pari), full of heroic Sentiments, the Scotch Earl 
falls; and with his Dying Words encourages his Men to revenge 
his Death, representing to them, as the most bitter Circum¬ 
stance of it, that his Rival saw him fall. 

With that there came an Arrow keen 
Out of an English bow. 

Which struck Earl Douglas to the Heart 
A deep and deadly Bknv. 

Who never spoke more Words than these, 

Fight on my merry Men all, 

For why, my Life is at an End, 

Lord Piercy sees my fall. 

Merry Men, in the Language of those Times, is no more than 
a chearful Word for Companions and Fellow-Soldiers. A 
Passage in the Eleventh Book of VirgiLs Aeneids is very much 
to be admired, where Camilla in her last Agonies, instead of 
weeping over the Wound she had received, as one might have 
expected from a Warrior of her Sex, considers only (like the 
Hero of whom we are now speaking) how the Battel should be 
continued after her Death. 



No. 70. Monday, May 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 2ig 
Turn sic expirans, &c. 

A gathering Mist o'erclouds her chearful Eyes; 

And from her Cheeks the rosy colour flies. 

Then, turns to her, whom, of her Female Train, 

She trusted most, and thus she speaks with Pain. 

* Acca, 'tis past! He swims before my Sight, 

Inexorable Death: and claims his Right. 

Bear my last Words to Turnus, fly with speed. 

And bid him timely to my Charge succeed: 

Repel the Trojans, and the Town relieve: 

Farewell. . . . 

Turnus did not die in so heroic a Manner; tho' our Poet 
seems to have had his eye upon J'urnus's Speech in the last 
Verse. 

Lord Piercy sees my Fall. 

. . . Vicisti, & victum tendere palmas 

Ausonii vidcre . . . 

Earl Piercy's Lamentation over his Enemy is generous, 
beautiful, and passionate; I must only caution the Reader not 
to let the Simj)licity of the Stile, which one may well pardon 
in so old a Poet, prejudice him against tlie Greatness of the 
Thought. 

Then leaving Life Earl Piercy took 
The dead Man by the Hand, 

And said, Earl Douglas for thy Life 
Would J had lost my Land. 

O Christ! My very Heart doth bleed 
With Sorrow for thy Sake : 

For sure a more renowned Knight 
Mischance did never take. 

That beautiful Line Taking the dead Man by the Hand, will 
put the Reader in Mind oi Aeneas’s Behaviour towards Lausus, 
whom he himself had Slain as he came to the Rescue of his 
aged Father. 

At vero ut vultum vidit moricntis, 6' ora. 

Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris, 

Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit, &c. 

The pious Prince beheld young I.ausus dead; 

He griev'd, he wept; then grasp’d his Hand, and said, 

Poor hapless Youth! What Praises can be paid 
To Worth so great! . . . 

I shall take another Opportunity to consider the other Parts 
of this old Song. C 



220 THE SPECTATOR No. 71. Tuesday, May 22, 17U 
No. 71. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, May 22. 

. . . Scribere jussii amor. —Ovid. 

The entire Conquest of our Passions is so dilficult a Work, 
that they who despair of it should think of a less difficult Task, 
and only attempt to Regulate them. But there is a third thing 
which may contribute not only to the Ease, but also to the 
Pleasure of our Life; and that is, refining our Passions to a 
greater Elegance, than we receive them from Nature. When 
the Passion is Love, this Work is performed in innocent, tho' 
rude and uncultivated Minds, by the mere Force and Dignity 
of the Object. There are Forms which naturally create 
Respect in the Beholders, and at once inflame and chastise the 
Imagination. Such an Impression as this gives an immediate 
Ambition to deserve, in order to please. This Cause and Effect 
are beautifully described by Mr. Dryden in the Fable of Cymon 
and Iphigenia. After he has represented Cymon so stupid, that 
He whistled as he went, for want of Thought. 

he makes him fall into the following Scene, and shews its 
Influence upon him so excellently, that it appears as Natural 
as Wonderful. 

It happened on a Summer's Holiday, 

That to the Greenwood-shade he took his way; 

His Quarter-staff, which he cou’d ne’er forsake. 

Hung half before, and half behind his Back. 

He trudg’d along unknowing what he sought, 

And whistled as he went, for want of Thought, 

By Chance conducted, or by Thirst constrain’d. 

The deep Recesses of the Grove he gain’d: 

Where in a Plain, defended by the Wood ] 

Crept thro’ the matted Grass a Crystal Flood, I 
By which an Alablaster Fountain stood: ) 

And on the Margin of the Fount was laid 
{Attended by her Slaves) a sleeping Maid, 

Like Dian, and her Nymphs, when tir'd with Sport, 

To rest by cool Eurotas they resort; 

The Dame her self the Goddess well express'd. 

Not more distinguish'd by her Purple Vest, 

Than by the charming Features of her Face, 

And ev'n in Slumber a superior Grace: 

Her comely Limbs compos'd with decent Care, 

Her Body shaded with a slight Cymarr; 

Her Bosom to the View was only bare; 

The Fanning Wind upon her Bosom blows, ' 

To meet the Fanning Wind the Bosom rose; 

The Fanning Wind and purling Streams continue her 
Repose. 



No. 71. Tuesday, May 22, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 221 

The Fool of Nature stood with stupid Eyes 
And gaping Mouth, that testify'd Surprize, 

Fix’d on her Face, nor could remove his Sight, 

New as he was to Love, and Novice in Delight; 

Long mute he stood, and, leaning on his Staff, 

His Wonder witness’d with an Ideot Laugh; 

Then would have spoke, but by his glimni ring Sense 
First found his want of Words, and fear’d Offence: 

Doubted for what he was he should be known. 

By his Clown-Accent, and his Country-Tone. 

But lest this fine Description should be excepted against, as 
the Creation of that great Master Mr. Dryden, and not an 
Account of what has really ever happened in the World; I 
shall give you, verbatim, the Epistle of an enamoured Footman 
in the Country, to his Mistress. Their Sirnames shall not be 
incerted, because their Passion demands a greater Respect than 
is due to their Quality. James is Servant in a great Family, 
and Elizabeth waits upon the Daughter of one as numerous, 
some Miles off of her Lover. James, before he beheld Betty, 
was vain of his Strength, a rough Wrestler, and quarrelsome 
Cudgel-Player; Betty a publick Dancer at Maypoles, a Romp 
at Stool Ball: He always following idle Women, she playing 
among the Peasants: He a Country Bully, she a Country 
Coquette. But Love has made her constantly in her Mistress's 
Chamber, where the young Lady gratified a secret Passion of 
her own by making Betty talk of James ; and James is become 
a constant Waiter near his Master’s Apartment, in reading, 
as well as he can, Romances. I cannot learn who Molly is, 
who it seems walked Ten Mile to carry the angry Message, which 
gave Occasion to what follows. 

‘To ELIZABETH - 

My Dear Betty, May 14, 1711. 

Remember your bleeding Lover, who lyes bleeding at the 
Wounds Cupid made with the Arrows he borrowed at the Eyes 
of Venus, which is your sweet Person. 

Nay more, with the Token you sent me for my Love and 
Service offered to your sweet Person, which was your base 
Respects to my ill Conditions, when alas! there is no ill Con¬ 
ditions in me, but quite contrary; all Love and Purity, especi¬ 
ally to your sweet Person; but all this I take as a Jest. 

But the sad and dismal News which Molly brought me, 
struck me to the Heart, which was, it seems, and is your ill 
Conditions for my Love and Respects to you. 

For she told me, if I came Forty times to you, you would not 
speak with me, which Words I am sure is a great Grief to me.« 



222 THE SPECTATOR No. yi. Tuesday, May 22, 1711 

Now, my Dear, if I may not be permitted to your sweet 
Company, and to have the Happiness of speaking with your 
sweet ]\uson, I beg the Favour of you to accept of this my 
secret Mind and Thoughts, which hath so long lodged in my 
Breast; the which if you do not accept, I believe will go nigh 
to break my Heart. 

For indeed, my Dear, I love you above all the Beauties I 
ever saw in all my Life. 

The young Gentleman, and my Master's Daughter, the 
Londoner that is come down to marry her, sate in the Arbour 
most part of last Night. Oh! dear Betty, must the Nightingales 
sing to those who marry for Mony, and not to us true Lovers! 
Oh my dear Betty, that we could meet this Night where we used 
to do in the Woodl 

Now, my Dear, if T may not have the Blessing of kissing 
your sweet Lips, I beg I may have the Happiness of kissing 
your fair Hand, with a few Linos from your dear self, presented 
by whom you please or think fit. I believe, if Time would 
permit me, I could write all Day; but the Time being short, 
and Paper little, no more from your never-failing Lover till 
Death, 

James -’ 

Poor James\ Since his Time and Paper were so short; I, 
that have more than I can use well of both, will put the 
Sentiments of his kind Letter (the Stile of which seems to be 
confused with Scraps he had got ip hearing and reading what 
he did not understand) into what he meant to express. 

‘ Dear Creature, 

Can you then neglect him who has forgot all his Recreations 
and Enjoyments, to pine away his Life in thinking of you? 
When I do so, you appear more amiable to me than Venus does 
in the most beautiful Description that ever was made of her. 
All this Kindness you return with an Accusation, that I do not 
love you: But the contrary is so manifest, that I cannot think 
you in earnest. But the Certainty given me in your Message 
by Molly, that you do not love me, is what robs me of all 
Comfort. She says you will not see me: If you can have so 
much Cruelty, at least write to me, that I may kiss the Im¬ 
pression made by your fair Hand. I love you above all things, 
and, in my Condition, what you look upon with Indifference 
is to me the most exquisite Pleasure or Pain. Our young 
Lady, and a fine Gentleman from London, who are to marry 
for mercenary Ends, walk about our Gardens, and hear the 
Voice of Evening Nightingales, as if for Fashion-sake they 



No. yi. Tuesday, May 1711 THE SPECTATOR 223 

courted those Solitudes, because they have heard Lovers do so. 
Oh Betty \ could I hear these Rivulets murmur, and Birds sing 
while you stood near me, how little sensible should I be that 
we are both Servants, that there is any thing on Earth above us. 
Oh! I could write to you as long as 1 love you, till Death it self. 

JAMES: 

N.B. By the Words III Conditions, James means in a Woman 
Coquetry, in a Man Inconstancy. R 

No. 72. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, May 23. 

. . . Genus immortale manet, multosque per annos 
Stat fortuna doynus, <S* avi nmnerayiiur avorum. —Virg. 

Having already given my Reader an Account of several 
extraordinary Clubs both ancient and modern, I did not design 
to have troubled him with any more Narratives of this Nature; 
but I have lately received Information of a Club which I can 
call neither ancient nor modern, that I dare say will be no less 
surprising to my Reader than it was to my self; for which 
Reason I shall communicate it to the PubUck as one of tlie 
greatest Curiosities in its kind. 

A Friend of mine complaining of a Tradesman who is related 
to him, after having represented him as a very idle worthless 
Fellow, who neglected his Family, and spent most of his Time 
over a Bottle, told me, to conclude his Character, that he was a 
Member of the Everlasting Club. So very odd a Title raised 
my Curiosity to enquire into the Nature of a Club that had 
such a sounding Name; upon which my Friend gave me the 
following Account. 

The Everlasting Club consists of an hundred Members, who 
divide the whole twenty four Hours among them in such a 
manner, that the Club sits Day and Night from one end of the 
Year to another; no Party presuming to rise till they are re¬ 
lieved by those who are in course to succeed them. By this 
means a Member of the Everlasting Club never wants Company; 
for tho' he is not upon Duty himself, he is sure to find some who 
are; so that if he be disposed to take a Whet, a Nooning, an 
Evening's Draught, or a Bottle after Midnight, he goes to the 
Club, and finds a Knot of Friends to his Mind. 

It is a Maxim in this Club That the Steward never dies; for 
as they succeed one another by way of Rotation, no Man is 
to quit the great Elbow-chair which stands at the upper End 
I— 



224 THE SPECTATOR No. 72. Wednesday, May 2^, 1711 

of the Table, till his Successor is in a Readiness to fill it; in¬ 
somuch that there has not been a Sede vacante in the Memory 
of Man. 

This Club was instituted towards the End (or, as some of 
them say, about the Middle) of the Civil Wars, and continued 
without Interruption till the Time of the Great Fire, which 
burnt them out, and dispersed them for several Weeks. The 
Steward at that time maintained his Post till he had like to 
have been blown up with a neighbouring House (which was 
demolished in order to stop the Fire); and would not leave the 
Chair at last, till he had emptied all the Bottles upon the Table, 
and received repeated Directions from the Club, to withdraw 
himself. This Steward is frequently talked of in the Club, and 
looked upon by every Member of it as a greater Man, than the 
famous Captain mentioned in my Lord Clarendon, who was 
burnt in his Ship because he would not quit it without orders. 
It is said that towards the Close of 1700, being the great Year 
of Jubilee, the Club had it under Consideration whether they 
should break up or continue their Session; but after many 
Speeches and Debates, it was at length agreed to sit out the 
other Century. This Resolution passed in a general Club 
Nemine Contradicente. 

Having given this short Account of the Institution and 
Continuation of the Everlasting Club, I should here endeavour 
to say something of the Manners and Characters of its several 
Members, which I shall do according to the best Lights I have 
received in this Matter. 

It appears by their Books in general, that since their first 
Institution they have smoaked Fifty Tun of Tobacco, drank 
Thirty Thousand Butts of Ale, One Thousand Hogsheads of 
Red Port, Two hundred Barrels of Brandy, and a Kilderkin 
of small Beer: There has been likewise a great Consumption 
of Cards. It is also said, that they observe the Law in Ben. 
Johnson* B Club, which orders the Fire to be always kept in 
{focus perennis esto) as well for the Convenience of lighting 
their Pipes, as to cure the Dampness of the Club-Room. They 
have an old Woman in the nature of a Vestal, whose Business 
it is to cherish and perpetuate the Fire, which bums from 
Generation to Generation, and has seen the Glass-house Fires 
in and out above an Hundred times. 

The Everlasting Club treats all other Clubs with an Eye of 
Contempt, and talks even of the Kit-Cat and October as of a 
couple of Upstarts. Their ordinary Discourse (as much as I 
have been able to learn of it) turns altogether upon such 
Adventures as have passed in their own Assembly: of Members 
w ho have taken the Glass in their Turns for a Week together. 



iVo. 7 *. Wednesday, May 2-^, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 225 

without stirring out of the Club; of others who have smoaked 
an hundred Pipes at a Sitting; of others who have not missed 
their Morning’s Draught for Twenty Years together: Sometimes 
they speak in Raptures of a Run of Ale in King Charleses 
Reign; and sometimes reflect with Astonishment upon Games 
at Whisk, which have been miraculously recovered by Members 
of the Society, when in all human Probability the Case was 
desperate. 

They delight in several old Catches, which they sing at all 
Hours to encourage one another to moisten their Clay, and grow 
immortal by drinking; with many other edifying Exhortations 
of the like nature. 

There are four general Clubs held in a Year, at which Times 
they fill up Vacancies, appoint Waiters, confirm the old Fire- 
Maker, or elect a new one, settle Contributions for Coals, 
Pipes, Tobacco, and other Necessaries. 

The Senior Member has out-Uved the whole Club twice over, 
and has been drunk with the Grandfathers of some of the 
present sitting Members. C 


No. 73. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, May 24. 

. * . O Dea cefte! —Virg. 

It is very strange to consider, that a Creature like Man, who is 
sensible of so many Weaknesses and Imperfections, should be 
actuated by a Love of Fame: That Vice and Ignorance, Im¬ 
perfection and Misery should contend for Praise, and endeavour 
as much as possible to make themselves Objects of Admiration. 

But notwithstanding Man’s Essential Perfection is but very 
little, his Comparative Perfection may be very considerable. 
If he looks upon himself in an abstracted Light, he has not much 
to boast of; but if he considers himself with regard to others, 
he may find Occasion of glorying, if not in his own Virtues, at 
least in the Absence of another’s Imperfections. This gives 
a different Turn to the Reflections of the Wise Man and the 
Fool. The first endeavours to shine in himself, and the last 
to out-shine others. The first is humbled by the Sense of his 
own Infirmities, the last is Ufted up by the Discovery of those 
which he observes in other Men. The Wise Man considers 
what he wants, and the Fool what he abounds in. The Wise 
Man is happy when he gains his own Approbation, and the 
Fool when he Recommends himself to the Applause of those 
about him. 



226 THE SPECTATOR No. 73. Thursday, May 24, 1711 

But however unreasonable and absurd this Passion for 
Admiration may appear in such a Creature as Man, it is not 
wholly to be discouraged; since it often produces very good 
Effects, not only as it restrains him from doing any thing which 
is mean and contemptible, but as it pushes him to Actions 
which are great and glorious. The Principle may be defective 
or faulty, but the Consequences it produces are so good, that, 
for the Benefit of Mankind, it ought not to be extinguished. 

Ir is observed by Cicero, that Men of the greatest and the 
most shining Parts are the most actuated by Ambition; and 
if we look into the two Sexes, I believe we shall find this 
Principle of Action stronger in Women than in Men. 

The Passion for Praise, which is so very vehement in the 
fair Sex, produces excellent Effects in Women of Sense, who 
desire to be admired for that only which deserves Admiration: 
and I think we may observe, without a Compliment to them, 
that many of them do not only live in a more uniform Course 
of Virtue, but with an infinitely greater Regard to their 
Honour, than what we find in the Generality of our own Sex. 
How many Instances have we of Chastity, Fidelity, Devotion? 
How many Ladies distinguish themselves by the Education of 
their Children, Care of their Families, and Love of their Hus¬ 
bands, which are the great Qualities and Atchievements of 
Womankind: As the making of War, the carrying on of TraiTick, 
the Administration of Justice, are those by which Men grow 
famous, and get themselves a Name. 

But as this Passion for Admiration, when it works according 
to Reason, improves the beautiful Part of our Species in every 
thing that is Laudable; so nothing is more Destructive to them 
when it is governed by Vanity and I'olly. What I have there¬ 
fore here to say, only regards the vain Part of the Sex, whom for 
certain Reasons, which the Reader will hereafter see at large, 
I shall distinguish by the name of Idols. An Idol is wholly 
taken up in the Adorning of her Person. You see in every 
Posture of her Body, Air of her Face, and Motion of her Head, 
that it is her Business and Employment to gain Adorers. For 
this Reason your Idols sppear in all publick Places and Assem¬ 
blies, in order to seduce Men to their Worship. The Play¬ 
house is very frequently filled with Tdols] several of them are 
carried in Procession every Evening about the Ring, and several 
of them set up their Worship even in Churches. They are to 
be accosted in the Language proper to the Deity. Life and 
Death are in their Power: Joys of Heaven and Pains of Hell 
are at their disposal: Paradise is in their Arms, and Eternity in 
every Moment that you arc present with them. Raptures, 
Transports, and Extasies are the Rewards which they confer: 



No. 73. Thursday, May 24, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 227 

Sighs and Tears, Prayers and broken Hearts are the Offerings 
which are paid to them. Their Smiles make Men happy; 
their Frowns drive them to despair. I shall only add under 
this Head, that Ovid’s Book of the Art of Love is a kind of 
Heathen Ritual, which contains all the Forms of Worship 
which are made use of to an Idol. 

It would be as difficult a Task to reckon up these different 
kinds of Idols, as Milton’s was to number those that were 
known in Canaan, and the Lands adjoining. Most of them are 
Worshipped, like Moloch, in Fires and blames. Some of them, 
hke Baal, love to see their Votaries cut and slashed, and shed¬ 
ding their Blood for them. Some of them, like the Idol in the 
Apocrypha, must have Treats and Collations prepared for 
them every Night. It has indeed been known, that some of 
them have been used by their incensed Worshippers like the 
Chinese Idols, who are Whipped and Scourged when they refuse 
to comply with the Prayers that are offered to them. 

I must observe, that those Idolaters who devote themselves 
to the Idols I am here speaking of, differ very much from all 
other kinds of Idolaters. For as others fall out because they 
Worship different Idols, these Idolaters quarrel because they 
Worship the same. 

The Intention therefore of the Idol is quite contrary to the 
wishes of the Idolater; as the one desires to confine the Idol 
to himself, the whole Business and Ambition of the other is to 
multiply Adorers. This Humour of an Idol is prettily de¬ 
scribed in a Tale of Chaucer: He represents one of them sitting 
at a Table with three of her Votaries about her, who are all 
of them courting her Favour, and paying their Adorations: 
She smiled upon one, drank to another, and trod upon the 
other’s Foot which was under the Table, Now which of these 
three, says the old Bard, do you think was the Favourite? 
In troth, says he, not one of all the three. 

The Behaviour of this old Idol in Chaucer, puts me in mind 
of the Beautiful Clarhida, one of the greatest Idols among the 
Modems. She is Worshipped once a Week by Candle-light in 
the midst of a large Congregation generally called an Assembly. 
Some of the gayest Youths in the Nation endeavour to plant 
themselves in her Eye, while she sits in form with multitudes 
of Tapers burning about her. To encourage the Zeal of her 
Idolaters, she bestows a Mark of her Favour upon every one 
of them, before they go out of her Presence. She asks a 
Question of one, tells a Story to another, glances an Ogle upon 
a third, takes a Pinch of Snuff from the fourth, lets her Fan 
drop by accident to give the fifth an occasion of taking it up. 
In short, every one goes away satisfied with his Success, and. 



228 THE SPECTATOR No. 73. Thursday, May 24, 1711 

encouraged to renew his Devotions on the same Canonical 
Hour that Day Sevennight. 

An Idol may be Undeified by many accidental Causes. 
Marriage in particular is a kind of Counter-Apotheosis, or a 
Deification inverted. When a Man becomes familiar with his 
Goddess, she quickly sinks into a Woman. 

Old Age is likewise a great Decayer of your Idol: The truth 
of it is, there is not a more unhappy Being than a super¬ 
annuated Idol, especially when she has contracted such Airs 
and Behaviour as are only Graceful when her Worshippers are 
about her. 

Considering therefore that in these and many other Cases the 
Woman generally out-lives the Idol, I must return to the Moral 
of this Paper, and desire my fair Readers to give a proper 
Direction to their Passion for being admired: In order to which, 
they must endeavour to make themselves the Objects of a 
reasonable and lasting Admiration. This is not to be hoped 
for from Beauty, or Dress, or Fashion, but from those inward 
Ornaments which are not to be defaced by Time or Sickness, 
and which appear most amiable to those who are most 
acquainted with them. C 


No. 74. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, May 25. 

. . . Pendent opera interrupta . . .—Virg. 

In my last Monday's Paper I gave some general Instances of 
those beautiful Strokes which please the Reader in the old Song 
of Chevy-Chase', I shall here, according to my Promise, be more 
particular, and shew that the Sentiments in that Ballad are 
extreamly Natural and Poetical, and full of the majestick 
Simplicity which we admire in the greatest of the ancient 
Poets: For which Reason I shall quote several Passages of it, in 
which the Thought is altogether the same with what we meet 
in several Passages of the A eneid ; not that I would infer from 
thence, that the Poet (whoever he was) proposed to himself 
any Imitation of those Passages, but that he was directed to 
them in general, by the same kind of Poetical Genius, and by 
the same Copyings after Nature. 

Had this old Song been filled with Epigrammatical Turns 
and Points of Wit, it might perhaps have pleased the wrong 
Taste of some Readers; but it would never have become the 
Delight of the common People, nor have warmed the Heart of 
Sir Philip Sidney like tlie Sound of a Trumpet; it is only Nature 



No. 74. Friday, May 25, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 229 

that can have this Effect, and please those Tastes which are 
the most unprejudiced or the most refined. I must however 
beg leave to dissent from so great an Authority as that of Sir 
Philip Sidney, in the Judgment which he has passed as to the 
rude Stile and evil Apparel of this Antiquated Song; for there 
are several Parts in it where not only the Thouglit but the 
Language is majestick, and the Numbers sonorous; at least, 
the A pparel is much more gorgeous than many of the Poets made 
use of in Queen Elizabeth’s Time, as the Reader will see in 
several of the following Quotations. 

What can be greater than either the Thought or the Ex¬ 
pression in that Stanza, 

To drive the Deer uhth Hound and Horn 
Earl Piercy took his Way: 

The Child may rue that was unborn 
The Hunting of that Day! 

This Way of considering the Misfortunes which this Battel 
would bring upon Posterity, not only on those who were born 
immediately after the Battel and lost their Fathers in it, but 
on those also who perished in future Battels which took their 
rise from this Quarrel of the two Earls, is wonderfully beautiful, 
and conformable to the Way of Thinking among the ancient 
Poets. 

Audiet pugnas vitio parentum 
Kara juventus. —Hor. 

What can be more sounding and poetical, or resemble more 
the majestick Simplicity of the Ancients, than the following 
Stanzas ? 


The stout Earl of Northumberland, 

A Vow to God did make, 

His Pleasure in the Scottish Woods 
Three Summer’s Days to take. 

With fifteen hundred Bowmen hold. 

All chosen Men of Might, 

Who knew full well, in Time of Need, 

To aim their Shaftes aright. 

The Hounds ran swiftly thro’ the Woods 
The nimble Deer to take, 

A nd with their Cries the Hills and Dales 
An Eccho shrill did make. 

. . . Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron, 
laygetique canes, domitrixque E| idaurus equorum: 
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit. 



230 THE SPECTATOR No. 74. Friday, May 23, 1711 

Lo, yonder doth Earl Dowglas come. 

His Men in A rmour bright: 

Full twenty hundred Scottish Spears, 

All marching in our Sight. 

All Men of pleasant Tividale, 

Fast by the River Tweed, &c. 

The Country of the Scotch Warriors, described in these two last 
Verses, has a fine romantick Situation, and affords a Couple 
of smooth Words for Verse. If the Reader compares the fore¬ 
going six Lines of the Song with the following Latin Verses, he 
will see how much they are written in the Spirit of Virgil. 

A dversi campo apparent, hastasque reductis 
Protendunt longe dextris, 6* spicula vibrant: 

Quiquc altum Preneste viri, quique arva Gabinae 
Junonis, geiidumque Anienem, (S* roscida rivis 
Hernica saxa olunt: 

. . . qui rosea rura Velini, 

Qui Tetrica horrentes rupes, montcmque Severum, 
Casperiamque colunt, Forulosque S' Jiumen Himellae: 

Qui Tiberim Fabarimque bibunt. . . . 

But to proceed. 

Earl Dowglas on a milk-white Steed, 

Most like a Baron bold, 

Rode foremost of the Company 
Whose Armour shone like Gold. 

Turnus ut antevolans tardum praecesserat agmen, &c. 

Vidisti, quo Turnus equo, quibus ibat in armis 
Aureus . . . 

Our English Archers bent their Bows, 

Their Hearts were good and true; 

At the first Flight of Arrows sent, 

Full threescore Scots they slew. 

They clos'd full fa.st on ev'ry Side, 

No Slackness there was found; 

And many a gallant Gentleman 
Lay gasping on the Ground. 

With that there came an Arrow keen 
Out of an English Bow, 

Which struck Earl Dowglas to the Heart 
A deep and deadly Blow. 

Aeneas was wounded after the same Manner by an unknown 
Hand in the midst of a Parly. 



No. 74. Friday, May 25, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 231 

Has inter voces, media inter talia verba, 

Ecce viro stridens alis allapsa sagitta est, 

Incertum qua pulsa manu . . . 

But of all the descriptive Parts of this Song, there are none 
more beautiful than the four following Stanzas, which have a 
great Force and Spirit in them, and are filled with very natural 
Circumstances. The Thought in the third Stanza was never 
touched by any other Poet, and is such an one as would have 
shined in Homer or in Virgil. 

So thus did both those Nobles die, 

Whose Courage none could stain; 

An English Archer then perceiv'd 
The noble Earl was slain. 

lie had a Bow bent in his Hand, 

Made of a trusty Tree, 

An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long 
Unto the Head drew he. 

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery 
So right his Shaft he .set. 

The grey-goose Wing that was thereon 
In his Heart-blood was wet. 

This Fight did last from Break of Day 
Till setting of the Sun; 

For when they rung the Evening Bell 
The Battel scarce was done. 

One may observe likewise, that in the Catalogue of the Slain 
the Author has followed the Example of the greatest ancient 
Poets, not only in giving a long List of the Dead, but by 
diversifying it with little Characters of particular Persons. 

And with Earl Douglas there was slain 
Sir Hugh Montgomery, 

Sir Charles Carrel, that from the Field 
One foot would never fly: 

Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too. 

His Sister's Son was he. 

Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, 

Yet saved could not be. 

The familiar Sound in these Names destroys the Majesty of the 
Description; for this Reason I do not mention this Part of the 
Poem but to shew the natural Cast of Thought which appears in 
it, as the two last Verses look almost like a Translation of Virgil. 

. . . Cadil (S' Ripheus jusiissimus unus 
Qui fuit in Teucris & servantissimus aequi, 

Diis aliter visum . . . 



232 THE SPECTATOR No. 74. Friday, May 25, 1711 

In the Catalogue of the English who fell, Wiiherington’s Be¬ 
haviour is in the same Manner particularized very artfully, 
as the Reader is prepared for it by that Account which is given 
of him in the Beginning of the Battel; though I am satisfied 
your little Buffoon Readers (who have seen that Passage 
ridiculed in Hudibras) will not be able to take the Beauty of it: 
For which Reason I dare not so much as quote it. 

Then slept a gallant Squire forth. 

Witherington was his Name, 

Who said, 1 would not have it told 
To Henry our King for Shame, 

That e'er my Captain fought on Foot, 

And I stood looking on. 

We meet with the same Heroick Sentiments in Virgil. 

Non pudet, 0 Rutuli, pro cunctis talibus unam 
Objectare animam? numerone an viribus eequi 
Non sumus? 

What can be more natural or more moving, than the Circum¬ 
stances in which he describes the Behaviour of those Women 
who had lost their Husbands on this fatal Day ? 

Next Day did many Widows come 
Their Husbands to bewail, 

They wash'd their Wounds in brinish Tears, 

But all would not prevail. 

Their Bodies bath’d in purple Blood 
They bore with them away: 

They kiss'd them dead a thousand times, 

When they were dad in Clay. 

Thus we see how the Thoughts of this Poem, which naturally 
arise from the Subject, are always simple, and sometimes 
exquisitely noble; that the Language is often very sounding, 
and that the whole is written with a true Poetical Spirit. 

If this Song had been written in the Gothic Manner, which is 
the Delight of all our little Wits, whether Writers or Readers, 
it would not have hit the Taste of so many Ages, and have 
pleased the Readers of all Ranks and Conditions. I shall only 
beg Pardon for such a Profusion of Latin Quotations; which I 
should not have made use of, but that I feared my own Judg¬ 
ment would have looked too singular on such a Subject, had 
not I supported it by the Practice and Authority of Virgil. C 



No. 75. Saturdayt May 26 1 1711 THE SPECTATOR 233 
No. 75. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, May 26. 

Omnis Aristippum decuit color status 6* res. —Hor. 

It was with some Mortification that I suffered the Raillery of a 
Fine Lady of my Acquaintance, for Calling, in one of my Papers, 
Dorimant a Clown. She was so unmerciful as to take Advan¬ 
tage of my invincible Taciturnity, and on that occasion, with 
great Freedom to consider the Air, the Height, the Face, the 
Gesture of him who could pretend to judge so arrogantly of 
Gallantry. She is full of Motion, Janty and lively in her Im¬ 
pertinence, and one of those that commonly pass, among the 
Ignorant, for Persons who have a great deal of Humour. She 
had the Play of Sir Fopling in her Hand, and after she had said 
it was happy for her there was not so charming a Creature as 
Dorimant now living, she began with a Theatrical Tone of 
Voice to read, by way of Triumph over me, some of his 
Speeches. *Tis she, that lovely Hair, that easie Shape, those 
wanton Eyes, and all those melting Charms about her Mouth, 
which Medley spoke of: I ’ll follow the Lottery, and put in for a 
Prize with my Friend Bell-air. 

In Love the Victors from the Vanquish'd fly: 

They fly that wound, and they pursue that dye. 

Then turning over the Leaves, she reads alternately, and speaks. 

And you and Loveit to her Cost shall find, 

I fathom all the Depths of Womankind. 

Oh the Fine Gentleman! But here, continues she, is the 
Passage I admire most, where he begins to Teize Loveit, and 
Mimick Sir Fopling, Oh the pretty Satyr, in his resolving to 
be a Coxcomb to please, since Noise and Nonsense have such 
powerful charms! 

7 , that I may Successful prove, 

Transform my self to what you love. 

Then how like a Man of the Town, so Wild and Gay is thatl 

The Wife will find a Difference in our Fate, 

You Wed a Woman, I a good Estate. 

It would have been a very wild Endeavour for a Man of my 
Temper to offer any Opposition to so nimble a Speaker as my 
Fair Enemy is, but her Discourse gave me very many Reflec¬ 
tions, when I had left her Company. Among others, I could 
not but consider, with some Attention, the false Impressions, 



234 THE SPEC!'ATOR No. Saturday, May 26, tyii 

the generality (the Fair Sex more especially) have of what 
should be intended, when they say a Fine Gentleman', and 
could not help revolving that Subject in my Thoughts, and 
settling, as it were, an Idea of that Character in my own 
Imagination. 

No Man ought to have the Esteem of the rest of the World, 
for any Actions which are disagreeable to those Maxims which 
prevail, as the Standards of Behaviour, in the Country wherein 
he lives. What is opposite to the eternal Rules of Reason and 
good Sense, must be excluded from any Place in the Carriage 
of a Well-bred Man. I did not, I confess, explain my self 
enough on this Subject, when I called Dorimant a Clown, and 
made it an Instance of it, that he called the Orange Wench, 
Double-Tripe: I should have shewed, that Humanity obliges a 
Gentleman to give no Part of Humankind Reproach, for what 
they, whom they Reproach, may possibly have in common with 
the most Virtuous and Worthy amongst us. When a Gentle¬ 
man speaks Coarsly, he has dressed himself Clean to no pur¬ 
pose : The Cloathing of our Minds certainly ought to be regarded 
before that of our Bodies. To betray in a Man’s Talk a cor¬ 
rupted Imagination, is a much greater Offence against the 
Conversation of Gentlemen, than any Negligence of Dress 
imaginable. But this Sense of the Matter is so far from being 
received among People even of Condition, that Vocifer passes 
for a Fine Gentleman. He is Loud, Haughty, Gentle, Soft, 
Lewd, and Obsequious by turns, just as a little Understanding 
and great Impudence prompt him at the present Moment. He 
passes among the Silly Part of our Women for a Man of Wit, 
because he is generally in Doubt. He Contradicts with a 
Shrug, and confutes with a certain Sufficiency, in professing 
such or such a Thing is above his Capacity. What makes his 
Character the pleasanter is, that he is a professed Deluder of 
Women; and because the empty Coxcomb has no Regard to 
any thing that is of it self Sacred and Inviolable. I have 
heard an unmarried Lady of Fortune say, it is Pity so fine a 
Gentleman as Vocifer is so great an Atheist. The Crowds of 
such inconsiderable Creatures that infest all Places of Assem¬ 
bling, every Reader will have in his Eye from his own Observa¬ 
tion; but would it not be worth considering what Sort of 
Figure a Man who formed himself upon those Principles among 
us, which are agreeable to the Dictates of Honour and Religion, 
would make in the familiar and ordinary Occurrences of 
Life? 

I hardly have observed any one fill his several Duties of Life 
better than Ignotus. All the Under parts of his Behaviour, and 
such as are exposed to common Observation, have their rise 



No. 75. Saturday, May 26, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 235 

in him from great and noble Motives. A firm and unshaken 
Expectation of another Life, makes him become this; Humanity 
and good Nature, fortified by the Sense of Virtue, has the same 
Effect upon him, as the Neglect of all Goodness has upon many 
others. Being firmly Established in all Matters of Importance, 
that certain Inattention which makes Men's Actions look easie 
appears in him with greater Beauty: By a thorough Contempt 
of little Excellencies, he is perfectly Master of them. This 
Temper of Mind leaves him under no necessity of Studying his 
Air, and he has this peculiar Distinction, that his Negligence is 
unaffected. 

He that can work himself into a Pleasure in considering 
this Being as an uncertain one, and think to reap an Advantage 
by its Discontinuance, is in a fair way of doing all Things with 
a graceful Unconcern, and Gentleman-like Ease. Such a one 
does not behold his Life as a short, transient, perplexing State, 
made up of trifling Pleasures, and great Anxieties: but sees it 
in quite another Light; his Griefs arc Momentary and his Joys 
Immortal. Reflection upon Death is not a gloomy and sad 
thought of Resigning every Thing that he Delights in, but it is 
a short Night followed by an endless Day. What I would here 
contend for is, that the more Virtuous the Man is, the nearer 
he will naturally be to the Character of Genteel and Agreeable. 
A Man whose Fortune is Plentiful, shews an Ease in his 
Countenance, and Confidence in his Behaviour, which he that 
is under Wants and Difficulties cannot assume. It is thus with 
the State of the Mind; he that governs his Thoughts with the 
everlasting Rules of Reason and Sense, must have something so 
inexpressibly Graceful in his Words and Actions, that every 
Circumstance must become him. The Change of Persons or 
Things around him do not at all alter his Situation, but he looks 
disinterested in the Occurrences with which others are dis¬ 
tracted, because the greatest purpose of his Life is to maintain 
an Indifference both to it and all its Enjoyments. In a word, 
to be a Fine Gentleman, is to be a Generous and a Brave Man. 
What can make a Man so much in constant Humour and Shine, 
as we call it, than to be supported by what can never fail him, 
and to believe that whatever happens to him was the best 
thing that could possibly befal him, or else he on whom it 
depends would not have permitted it to have befallen him 
at aU? R 



236 THE SPECTATOR No. jd. Monday, May 2S, lyu 
No. 76. 

[STEELE.] Monday, May 28. 

Ut tu fortunam, sic nos te, Celse, feremus .—I lor. 

There is nothing so common as to find a Man whom in the 
general Observation of his Carriage you take to be of an uni¬ 
form Temper, subject to such unaccountable Starts of Humour 
and Passion, that he is as much unlike himself, and differs as 
much from the Man you at first thought him, as any two 
distinct Persons can differ from each other. This proceeds 
from the Want of forming some Law of Life to our selves, or 
fixing some Notion of things in general, which may affect us in 
such manner, as to create proper Habits both in our Minds and 
Bodies. The Negligence of this, leaves us exposed not only to 
an unbecoming Levity in our usual Conversation, but also to 
the same Instabihty in our Friendships, Interests, and Alliances. 
A Man who is but a meer Spectator of what passes around him, 
and not engaged in Commerces of any Consideration, is but an 
ill Judge of the secret Motions of the Heart of Man, and by what 
Degrees it is actuated to make such visible Alterations in the 
same Person: But at the same time, when a Man is no way 
concerned in the Effect of such Inconsistences in the Behaviour 
of Men of the World, the Speculation must be in the utmost 
Degree both diverting and instructive; yet to enjoy such 
Observations in the highest Relish, he ought to be placed in a 
Post of Direction, and have the dealing of their Fortunes to 
them. 1 have therefore been wonderfully diverted with some 
Pieces of secret History, which an Antiquary, my very good 
Friend, lent me as a Curiosity. They are Memoirs of the 
private Life of Pharamond of France. ' Pharamond' says my 
Author, ‘was a Prince of infinite Humanity and Generosity, 
and at the same time the most pleasant and facetious Com¬ 
panion of his Time. He had a peculiar Taste in him (which 
would have been unlucky in any Prince but himself), he thought 
there could be no exquisite Pleasure in Conversation but among 
Equals; and would pleasantly bewail himself that he always 
lived in a Crowd, but was the only Man in France that never 
could get into Company. This Turn of Mind made him delight 
in Midnight Rambles, attended only with one Person of his 
Bed-chamber: He would in these Excursions get acquainted 
with Men (whose Temper he had a Mind to try) and recom¬ 
mend them privately to the particular Observation of his 
first Minister. He generally found himself neglected by his 
new Acquaintance, as soon as they had hopes of growing 
great; and used on such Occasions to remark, That it was a 



No. 76. Monday, May 28, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 237 

great Injustice to tax Princes of forgetting themselves in their 
high Fortunes, when there were so few that could with Con¬ 
stancy bear the Favour of their very Creatures.' My Author 
in these loose Hints ha.s one Passage that gives us a very lively 
Idea of the uncommon Genius of Pkaramond. He met with 
one Man whom he had put to all the usual Proofs he made of 
those he had a Mind to know throughly, and found him for 
his Purpose: In Discourse with him one Day, he gave him 
Opportunity of saying how much would satisfie all his Wishes. 
The Prince immediately revealed himself, doubled the Sum, 
and spoke to him in this manner. ‘ Sir, You have twice what 
you desired, by the Favour of Pharamond; hut look to it that you 
are satisfied with it, for 'tis the last you shall ever receive. I from 
this Moment consider you as mine; and to make you truly so, I 
give you my Royal Word you shall never be greater or less than you 
are at present. Answer me not (concluded the Prince smiling) 
but enjoy the Fortune I have put you in, which is above my own 
Condition; for you have hereafter nothing to hope or to fear.’ 

His Majesty having thus well chosen and bought a Friend 
and Companion, he enjoyed alternately all the Pleasures of an 
agreeable private Man and a great and powerful Monarch: 
lie gave himself, with his Companion, the Name of the merry 
Tyrant; for he punished his Courtiers for their Insolence and 
Folly, not by any Act of publick Disfavour, but by humorously 
practising upon their Imaginations. If he observed a Man 
untractable to his Inferiors, he would find an Opportunity to 
take some favourable Notice of him, and render him insup¬ 
portable. He knew all his own Looks, Words and Actions 
had their Interpretations; and his Friend Monsieur Eucrate 
(for so he was called) having a great Soul without Ambition, he 
could communicate all his Thoughts to him, and fear no artful 
Use would be made of that Freedom. It was no small Delight, 
when they were in private, to reflect upon all which had passed 
in publick. 

Pharamond would often, to satisfie a vain Fool of Power in 
his Country, talk to him in a full Court, and with one Whisper 
make him despise all his old Friends and Acquaintance. He was 
come to that Knowledge of Men by long Observation, that he 
would profess altering the whole Mass of Blood in some Tempers 
by thrice speaking to them. As Fortune was in his Power, he 
gave himself constant Entertainment in managing the mere 
Followers of it with the Treatment they deserved. He would, 
by a skilful Cast of his Eye and half a Smile, make two Fellows 
who hated, embrace and fall upon each other's Neck with as 
much Eagerness, as if they followed their real Inclinations, and 
intended to stifle one another. When he was in high good 



238 THE SPECTATOR No. 76. Monday, May 28, 1711 

Humour, he would lay the Scene with Eucrate, and on a publick 
Night exercise the Passions of his whole Court. He was 
pleased to see an haughty Beauty watch the Looks of the Man 
she had long despised, from Observation of his being taken 
notice of by Pharamond; and the Lover conceive higher Hopes, 
than to follow the Woman he was dying for the Day before. 
In a Court, where Men speak Affection in the strongest Terms, 
and Dislike in the faintest, it was a comical Mixture of Inci¬ 
dents, to see Disguises thrown aside in one Case and encreased 
on the other, according as Favour or Disgrace attended 
the respective Objects of Men's Approbation or Disesteem. 
Pharamond, in his Mirth, upon the Meanness of Mankind, used 
to say, ‘ As he could take away a Man’s Five Senses, he could 
give him an Hundred. The Man in Disgrace shall immediately 
lose all his Natural Endowments, and he that finds Favour 
have the Attributes of an Angel.' He would carry it so far 
as to say, ‘ It should not be only so in the Opinion of the lower 
Part of his Court, but the Men themselves shall think thus 
meanly or greatly of themselves, as they are out or in the good 
Graces of a Court.’ 

A Monarch who had Wit and Humour like Pharamond, must 
have Pleasures which no Man else can ever have Opportunity 
of enjoying. He gave Fortune to none but those whom he 
knew could receive it without Transport; he made a noble 
and generous Use of his Observations; and did not regard his 
Ministers as they were agreeable to himself, but as they were 
useful to his Kingdom: By this Means the King appeared in 
every Officer of State; and no Man had a Participation of the 
Power, who had not a Simihtude of the Virtue of Pharamond. 

R 


No. 77. 

[BUDGELL.] Tuesday, May 29. 

Non convivere . . , 

. . . lied, nec ttrbe tola 

Quisquam est tarn prope tarn proculque nobis. —Mart. 

My Friend Will. Honeycomb is one of those Sort of Men who 
are very often absent in Conversation, and what the French 
call a reveur and a distrait, A little before our Club-time last 
Night we were walking together in Somerset Garden, where 
Will, had picked up a small Pebble of so odd a Make, that he 
said he would present it to a Friend of his, an eminent Virtuoso, 
After we had walked some time, I made a full stop with my 
Face towards the West, which Will, knowing to be my usui 



No. 77. Tuesday, May 29, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 239 

Method of aslcing what's a Clock, in an Afternoon, immedi¬ 
ately pulled out his Watch, and told me we had seven Minutes 
good. We took a turn or two more, when, to my great Sur¬ 
prize, I saw him squir away his Watch a considerable way 
into the Thames, and with great Sedateness in his Looks put 
up the Pebble, he had before found, in his Fob. As I have 
naturally an Aversion to much Speaking, and do not love to 
be the Messenger of ill News, especially when it comes too late 
to be useful, I left him to be convinced of his Mistake in due 
time, and continued my Walk, reflecting on these little Absences 
and Distractions in Mankind, and resolving to make them the 
Subject of a future Speculation. 

I was the more confirmed in my Design, when I considered 
that they were very often Blemishes in the Characters of Men 
of excellent Sense; and helped to keep up the Reputation of that 
Latin Proverb, which Mr. Dryden has Translated in the following 
Lines: 

Great Wit to Madness sure is near ally'd, 

And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide. 

My Reader does, I hope, perceive, that I distinguish a Man 
who is Absent, because he thinks of something else, from one 
who is Absent, because he thinks of nothing at all: The latter is 
too Innocent a Creature to be taken notice of; but the Dis¬ 
tractions of the former may, I believe, be generally accounted 
for from one of these Reasons. 

Either their Minds are wholly fixed on some particular 
Science, which is often the Case of Mathematicians and other 
Learned Men; or are wholly taken up with some Violent 
Passion, such as Anger, Fear, or Love, which ties the Mind to 
some distant Object; or, lastly, these Distractions proceed 
from a certain Vivacity and Fickleness in a Man's Temper, 
which while it raises up infinite Numbers of Ideas in the Mind, 
is continually pushing it on, without allowing it to rest on any 
particular Image. Nothing therefore is more unnatural than 
the Thoughts and Conceptions of such a Man, which are seldom 
occasioned either by the Company he is in, or any of those 
Objects which are placed before him. While you fancy he is 
Admiring a Beautiful Woman, ’tis an even Wager that he is 
solving a Proposition in Euclid) and while you may imagine 
he is reading the Paris Gazette, 'tis far from being impossible, 
that he is pulling down and rebuilding the Front of his 
Country-House. 

At the same time that I am endeavouring to expose this 
Weakness in others, I shall readily confess that I once laboured 
under the same Infirmity my self. The Method I took 



240 THE SPECTATOR No. 77. Tttesday, May 29, 1711 

Conquer it was a firm Resolution to learn something from 
whatever I was obliged to see or hear. There is a way of 
Thinking, if a Man can attain to it» by which he may strike 
somewhat out of any thing. I can at present observe those 
Starts of good Sense and Struggles of unimproved Reason in 
the Conversation of a Clown, with as much Satisfaction as the 
most shining Periods of the most finished Orator; and can make 
a shift to command my Attention at a Puppet-Show or an 
Opera, as well as at Hamlet or Othello. I always make one of 
the Company I am in; for though I say little my self, my 
Attention to others, and those Nods of Approbation which I 
never bestow unmerited, sufficiently shew that I am among 
them. Whereas Will. Honeycomb, tho' a Fellow of good 
Sense, is every Day doing and saying an hundred Things, 
which he afterwards confesses, with a well-bred Frankness, 
were somewhat mal a propos, and undesigned. 

I chanced the other Day to go into a Coffee-house, where 
Will, was standing in the midst of several Auditors whom he 
had gathered round him, and was giving them an Account of 
the Person and Character of Moll Hinton. My Appearance 
before him just put him in Mind of me, without making him 
reflect that I was actually present. So that keeping his 
Eyes full upon me, to the great Surprize of his Audience, he 
broke off his first Harangue, and proceeded thus,—' Why now 
there's my Friend (mentioning me by Name) he is a Fellow 
that thinks a great deal, but never opens his Mouth; I warrant 
you he is now thrusting his^hort Face into some Coffee-house 
about 'Change. I was his Bail in the time of the Popish-Plot, 
when he was taken up for a Jesuit.' If he had looked on me a 
little longer, he had certainly described me so particularly, 
without ever considering what led him into it, that the whole 
Company must necessarily have found me out; for which reason 
remembring the old Proverb, Out of Sight out of Mind, I left 
the Room; and upon meeting him an Hour afterwards, was 
asked by him, with a great deal of good Humour, in what Part 
of the World I had lived, that he had not seen me these three 
Days. 

Monsieur Bruyere has given us the Character of an absent 
Man, with a great deal of Humour, which he has pushed to an 
agreeable Extravagance; with the Heads of it I shall conclude 
my present Paper. 

' Menalcas (says that excellent Author) comes down in a 
Morning, opens his Door to go out, but shuts it again, because 
he perceives that he has his'Night-cap on; and examining 
himself further, finds that he is but half shaved, that he has 
stuck his Sword on his Right Side, that his Stockings are about 



No. 77. Tuesday, May 29, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 241 

his heels, and that his Shirt is over his Breeches. When he is 
dressed he goes to Court, comes into the Drawing-room, and 
walking bolt upright under a branch of Candlesticks, his Wig 
is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the Air. 
All the Courtiers fall a laughing, but Mcna/cas laughs louder than 
any of them, and looks about for the Person that is the Jest of 
the Company. Coming down to the Court-gate he finds a 
Coach, which taking for his own he whips into it; and the 
Coachman drives off, not doubting but he carries his Master. 
As soon as he stops, Menalcas throws himself out of the Coach, 
crosses the Court, ascends the Stair-case, and runs thro' all the 
Chambers with the greatest Familiarity, reposes himself on a 
Couch, and fancies himself at Home. The Master of the House 
at last comes in, Menalcas rises to receive him, desires him to 
sit down; he talks, muses, and then talks again. The Gentle¬ 
man of the House is tired and amazed; Menalcas is no less so, 
but is every Moment in hopes that his impertinent Guest will 
at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, when Menalcas 
is hardly undeceived. 

When he is playing at Backgammon, he calls for a full 
Glass of Wine and Water; 'tis his turn to throw, he has the 
Box in one Hand, and his Glass in the other, and being ex¬ 
tremely dry, and unwilling to lose Time, he swallows down 
both the Dice, and at the same Time throws his Wine into the 
Tables. He writes a Letter, and flings the Sand into the Ink- 
bottle; he writes a second, and mistakes the Superscription. 
A Noble-man receives one of them, and upon opening it reads 
as follows. I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon 
the Receipt of this, take in Hay enough to serve me the Winter. 
His Farmer receives the other, and is amazed to see in it. My 
Lord, I received your Grace's Commands with an intire Sub¬ 
mission fo ... If he is at an Entertainment, you may see the 
Pieces of Bread continually multiplying round his Plate: 
'Tis true, the rest of the Company want it, as well as their 
Knives and Forks, which Menalcas does not let them keep 
long. Sometimes in a Morning he puts his whole Family in an 
hurry, and at last goes out without being able to stay for his 
Coach or Dinner; and for that Day you may see him in every 
part of the Town, except the very Place where he had appointed 
to be upon a Business of Importance. You would often take 
him for everything that he is not; for a Fellow quite Stupid, for 
he hears nothing; for a Fool, for he talks to himself, and has an 
hundred Grimaces and Motions with his Head, which are 
altogether involuntary; for a proud Man, for he looks full upon 
you, and takes no Notice of your saluting him: The Truth 
on *t is, his Eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and 



242 THE SPECTATOR No, 77. Tuesday, May 29, 17H 

neither sees you, nor any Man, nor any thing else. He came 
once from his Country-house, and his own Footmen undertook 
to rob him, and succeeded: They held a Flambeau to his Throat, 
and bid him deliver his Purse: he did so, and coming home told 
his Friends he had been robbed; they desire to know the 
Particulars, Ash my Servants, says Menalcas, for they were 
with me.’ X 

No. 78. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, May 30. 

Cum talis sis, utinam nosier esses! 

The following Letters are so plca.sant, that I doubt not but 
the Reader will be as much diverted with them as I was. I 
have nothing to do in this Day's Entertainment, but taking the 
Sentence from the End of the Cambridge Letter, and placing it 
at the Front of my Paper; to shew the Author I wish him my 
Companion with as much Earnestness as he invites me to be his. 

' Sir, 

I send you the inclosed, to be inserted (if you think them 
worthy of it) in your Spectators; in which so surprising a 
Genius appears, that it is no wonder if all Mankind endeavours 
to get somewhat into a Paper which will always live. 

As to the Cambridge Affair, the Humour was really carried 
on in the Way I describe it. However, you have a full Com¬ 
mission to put out or in, and to do whatever you think fit with 
it. I have already had the Satisfaction of seeing you take 
that Liberty with some things I have before sent you. 

Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes of, 

Sir, 

Your very Affectionate and 

Obliged Humble Servant.* 

'Mr. Spectator, Cambridge. 

You well know it is of great Consequence to clear Titles, and 
it is of Importance that it be done in the proper Season; On 
which Account this is to assure you, that the Club of Ugly 
Faces was instituted originally at CAMBRIDGE in the merry 
Reign of K—g Ch—les II. As in great Bodies of Men it is not 
difficult to find Members enow for such a Club, so (I remember) 
it was then feared, upon thek intention of dining together, 
that the Hall belonging to CLARE HALL, (the ugliest then in 
the Town, tho' now the neatest) would not be large enough 



No.yS, Wednesday, May ^o, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 243 

HANDSOMELY to hold the Company, Invitations were made 
to great Numbers, but rery few accepted them without much 
Difficulty. Onp: pleaded, that being at London in a Book¬ 
seller’s Shop, a Lady going by with a great Belly longed to 
kiss him. He had certainly been excused, but that Evidence 
appeared. That indeed one in London did pretend she longed to 
kiss him, but that it was only a Pickpocket, who during his 
kissing her stole away all his Money. Another would have 
got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved upon him, 
that he had by coming into a Room made a Woman miscarry, 
and frighted two Children into Fits. A Third alledged. That 
he was taken by a Lady for another Gentleman, who was one 
of the handsomest in the University: But upon Enquiry it 
was found. That the Lady had actually lost one Eye, and the 
other was very much upon the Decline. A Fourth produced 
Letters out of the Country in his Vindication, in which a 
Gentleman offered him his Daughter, who had lately fallen in 
Love with him, with a good Fortune: But it was made appear 
that the young Lady was amorous, and had like to have run 
away with her Father's Coachman; so that 'twas supposed, 
that her Pretence of falling in Love with him was only in 
order to be well married. It was pleasant to hear the several 
Excuses which were made, insomuch that some made as much 
Interest to be excused, as they would from serving Sheriff; 
however, at last the Society was formed, and proper Officers 
were appointed; and the Day was fixed for the Entertainment, 
which was in Venison Season. A pleasant Fellow of King's 
College (commonly called Crab from his sour Look, and the 
only Man who did not pretend to get off) was nominated for 
Chaplain; and nothing was wanting but some one to sit in the 
Elbow-Chair, by way of President, at the upper end of the 
Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Conten¬ 
tion for Superiority there. This affair made so great a Noise, 
that the K—g, who was then at New-Market, heard of it, and 
was pleased merrily and graciously to say. He could not be 
THERE Himself, but he would send them a Brace of Bucks. 

I would desire you. Sir, to set this Affair in a true Light, 
that Posterity may not be mis-led in so important a Point: 
For when the Wise Man who shall write your true History shall 
acquaint the World, That you had a Diploma sent from the 
Ugly Club at Oxford, and That by Vertue of it you were admitted 
into it; what a learned War will there be among future Criticks 
about the Original of that Club, which both Universities will 
contend so warmly for? And perhaps some hardy Canta¬ 
brigian Author may then boldly affirm. That the Word 
OXFORD was an Interpolation of some Oxonian instead of 



244 THE SPECTATOR No. y 8 . Wednesday, May ^o, ijii 

CAMBRIDGE This Affair will be best adjusted in your 
Lifetime; but I hope your Affection to your Mother will not 
make you partial to your Aunt. 

To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho’ I cannot find any 
ancient Records of any Acts of the Society of the Ugly 
Faces, considered in a publick Capacity; yet in a private one 
they have certainly Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded 
they will hardly give Place to the Lowngers, and the Lowngers 
are of the same Standing with the University it self. 

Though we well know. Sir, you want no Motives to do 
Justice, yet I am commissioned to tell you, that you are in¬ 
vited to be admitted ad eundem at CAMBRIDGE) and I 
believe I may venture safely to deliver this as the Wish of our 
whole University.’ 


' To Mr. SPECTATOR. 

The humble Petition of WHO and WHICH. 

Sheweth, 

That your Petitioners being in a forlorn and destitute 
Condition, know not to whom we should apply our selves for 
Relief, because there is hardly any Man alive who has not 
injured us. Nay, we speak it with Sorrow, even You your self, 
whom we should suspect of such a Practice the last of all 
Mankind, can hardly acquit your self of having given us some 
Cause of Complaint. We are descended of ancient Families, 
and kept up our Dignity and Honour many Years, till the 
Jacksprat That suoplanted us. How often have we found 
our selves slighted by the Clergy in their Pulpits, and the 
Lawyers at the Bar? Nay, how often have we heard in one 
of the most polite and august Assemblies in the Universe, to 
our great Mortification, these Words, That THAT that noble 
L—d urged} which if one of us had had Justice done, would 
have sounded nobler thus. That WHICH that noble L — d urged. 
Senates themselves, the Guardians of British Liberty, have 
degraded us, and preferred THAT to us; and yet no Decree was 
ever given against us. In the very Acts of Parliament, in 
which the utmost Right should be done to every Body, WORD, 
and Thing, we find ourselves often either not used, or used one 
instead of another. In the first and best Prayer Children 
are taught, they learn to misuse us: Our Father WHICH art 
in Heaven, should be, Our Father WHO art in Heaven] and even 
a Convocation, after long Debates, refused to consent to an 
Alteration of it. In our general Confession we say,— Spare 
Thou them, 0 God, WHICH confess their Faults] which ought 



No. 78. Wednesday, May zo. lyII THE SPECTATOR 245 

to be, WHO confess their Faults. What Hopes then have we 
of having Justice done us, when the Makers of our very 
Prayers and Laws, and the most learned in all Faculties, seem 
to be in a Confederacy against us, and our Enemies themselves 
must be our J udges ? 

The Spanish Proverb says Jl sahio muda conscio, il necio no; 
i.e. A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will. So that 
we think You, Sir, a very proper Person to address to, since 
we know you to be capable of being convinced, and changing 
your Judgment. You are well able to settle this Affair, and 
to you we submit our Cause. We desire you to assign the 
Butts and Bounds of each of us; and that for the future we may 
both enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by our 
Council, but that we fear in their very Pleadings they would 
betray our Cause: Besides, we have been oppressed so many 
Years, that we can appear no other Way, but in forma pauperis. 
All which considered, we hope you will be pleased to do that 
which to flight and Justice shall appertain. 

R And Your Petitioners, &c.' 


No. 79. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, May 31. 

Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore. —Hor. 

I HAVE received very many Letters of late from my Female 
Correspondents, most of whom are very angry with me for 
Abridging their Pleasures, and looking severely upon things, in 
themselves indifferent. But I think they are extreamly Un¬ 
just to me in this Imputation: All that I contend for is, that 
those Excellencies, which are to be regarded but in the second 
Place, should not precede more weighty Considerations. The 
Heart of Man deceives him in spite of the Lectures of half a 
Life spent in Discourses on the Subjection of Passion; and I 
do not know why one may not think the Heart of Woman as 
unfaithful to it self. If we grant an Equality in the Faculties 
of both Sexes, the Minds of Women are less Cultivated with 
Precepts, and consequently may, without Disrespect to them, 
be accounted more liable to Il.usion in Cases wherein natural 
Inclination is out of the Interest of Virtue. I shall take up my 
present Time in commenting upon a Billet or two which came 
from Ladies, and from thence leave the Reader to judge 
whether I am in the right or not, in thinking it is possible 
Fine Women may be mistaken. 



246 THE SPECTATOR No. yg. Thursday, May11 

The following Address seems to have no other Design in it, 
but to tell me the Writer will do what she pleases for all me. 

‘ Mr. Spectator, 

I am Young, and very much inclined to follow the Paths of 
Innocence; but at the same time, as 1 have a plentiful Fortune, 
and am of Quality, I am unwilling to resign the Pleasures of 
Distinction, some little Satisfaction in being Admired in 
general, and much greater in being beloved by a Gentleman, 
whom I design to make my Husband. But I have a mind to 
put off entring into Matrimony 'till another Winter is over my 
Head, which (whatever, musty Sir, you may think of the 
Matter) I design to pass away in hearing Musick, going to 
Plays, Visiting, and all other Satisfactions which Fortune and 
Youth, protected by Innocence and Virtue, can procure for. 
Sir, 

Your most Humble Servant, 

M. T. 

My Lover does not know I like him, therefore having no 
Engagements upon me, I think to stay, and know whether I 
may not like any one else better.' 

I have heard Will. Honeycomb say, A Woman seldom 
writes her Mind but in her Postscript. I think this Gentle¬ 
woman has sufficiently discovered hers in this. I *11 lay what 
Wager she pleases against her present Favourite, and can tell 
her that she will Like Ten more before she is fixed, and then 
will take the worst Man she ever liked in her Life. There is 
no end of Affection taken in at the Eyes only; and you may as 
well satisfie those Eyes with seeing, as control any Passion 
received by them only. It is from Loving by Sight that Cox¬ 
combs so frequently succeed with Women, and very often a 
Young Lady is bestowed by her Parents to a Man who weds her 
(as Innocence it self), tho' she has, in her own Heart, given her 
Approbation of a different Man in every Assembly she was in 
the whole Year before. What is wanting among Women, as 
well as among Men, is the Love of laudable Things, and not to 
rest only in the Forbearance of such as are Reproachful. 

How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination 
is Eudosia ! Eudosia has all the Arts of Life and good Breed¬ 
ing with so much ease, that the Virtue of her Conduct looks 
more like an Instinct than Choice. It is as little difficult to 
her to think justly of Persons and Things, as it is to a Woman 
of different Accomplishments to move ill or look awkard. 
That which was, at first, the effect of Instruction is grown into 
an Habit; and it would be as hard for Eudosia to indulge a 



No. 79. Thursday, May 31, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 247 

wrong Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for Flavia the 
Fine Dancer, to come into a Room with an unbecoming Air. 

But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their 
own State of Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the 
following Letter, which is birt an Extract of a kind Epistle from 
my charming Mistress Hecatissa, who is above the Vanity of 
external Beauty, and is the better Judge of the Perfections of 
the Mind. 

' Mr . Spectator, 

I write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well 
as my self, spend many Hours more than we used at the Glass, 
for want of the Female Library of which you promised us a 
Catalogue. I hope. Sir, in the Choice of Authors for us, you 
will have a particular Regard to Books of Devotion. What 
they are, and how many, must be your chief Care; for upon 
the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I have 
known those among us who think, if they every Morning and 
Evening spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many 
Prayers in Six or Seven Books of Devotion, all equally non¬ 
sensical, with a sort of Warmth (that might as well be raised 
by a Glass of Wine, or a Drachm of Citron) they may all the 
rest of their time go on in whatever their particular Passion 
leads them to. The Beauteous Philauthia, who is (in your 
Language) an Idol, is one of these Votaries; she has a very 
pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed 
Hours; This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chappel; she has 
constantly before her a large Looking-glass, and upon the 
Table, according to a very witty Author, 

Together lye her Prayer-Book and Paint 
At once V improve the Sinner and the Saint. 

It must be a good Scene, if one could be present at it, to see 
this Idol by turns lift up her Eyes to Hcav'n, and steal Glances 
at her own dear Person. It cannot but be a pleasing Conflict 
between Vanity and Humiliation. When you are upon this 
Subject, chuse Books which elevate the Mind above the 
World, and give a pleasing Indifference to httle things in it. 
For want of such Institutions, I am apt to believe so many 
People take it in their Heads to be sullen, cross and angry, 
under Pretence of being abstracted from the Affairs of this 
Life; when at the same time they betray their Fondness for 
them by doing their Duty as a Task, and Pouting and reading 
good Books for a Week together. Much of this I take to pro¬ 
ceed from the Indiscretion of the Books themselves, whose 
very Titles of Weekly Preparations, and such limited Godliness, 
I—1 



248 THE SPECTATOR No.j^. Thursday, May 31, 1711 

lead People of ordinary Capacities into great Errors, and raise 
in them a Mechanical Religion, intirely distinct from Morality. 
I know a Lady so given up to this sort of Devotion, that tho’ 
she employs six or eight Hours of the twenty four at Cards, she 
never misses one constant Hour of Prayer, for which time 
another holds her Cards, to which she returns with no little 
Anxiousness 'till two or three in the Morning. All the.se Acts 
are but empty Shows, and, as it were, Compliments made to 
Virtue; the Mind is all the while untouched with any true 
Pleasure in the Pursuit of it. From hence I presume it arises 
that so many People call themselves Virtuous, from no other 
Pretence to it but an Absence of Ill. There is Dulcianara is the 
most insolent of all Creatures to her Friends and Domesticks, 
upon no other Pretence in Nature, but that (as her silly Phrase 
is) no one can say Black is her Eye. She has no Secrets, for¬ 
sooth, which should make her afraid to speak her Mind, and 
therefore she is impertinently Blunt to all her Acquaintance, 
and unseasonably Imperious to all her Family. Dear Sir, 
be pleased to put such Books in our Hands, as may make our 
Virtue more inward, and convince some of us that in a Mind 
truly Virtuous the Scorn of Vice is always accompanied with 
the Pity of it. This, and other things, arc impatiently expected 
from you by our whole Sex, among the rest by, Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

B. D.' 


No. 80. 

[STEELE.] Friday, June i. 

Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt. —Hor. 

In the Year 1688, and on the same Day of that Year, were 
born in Cheapside, London, two Females of exquisite Feature 
and Shape; the one we shall call Brunetta, the other Phillis. 
A close Intimacy between their Parents made each of them the 
first Acquaintance the other knew in the World: They Played, 
dressed Babies, acted Visitings, learned to Dance and make 
Curtsies, together. They were inseparable Companions in all 
the little Entertainments their tender Years were capable of; 
Which innocent Happiness continued till the Beginning of their 
fifteenth Year, when it happened that Mrs. Phillis had an 
Head-dress on which became her so very well, that instead of 
being beheld any more with Pleasure for their Amity to each 
other, the Eyes of the Neighbourhood were turned to remark 
them with Comparison of their Beauty. They now no longer 



No. 8o. Friday, June i, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 249 

enjoyed the Ease of Mind and pleasing Indolence in which they 
were formerly happy, but all their Words and Actions were 
misinterpreted by each other, and every Excellence in their 
Speech and Behaviour was looked upon as an Act of Emula¬ 
tion to surpass the other. These Beginnings of Dis-inclination 
soon improved into a Formality of Behaviour, a general Cold¬ 
ness, and by natural Steps into an irreconcilcable Hatred. 

These two Rivals for the Reputation of Beauty, were in their 
Stature, Countenance and Mein so very much alike, that if 
you were speaking of them in their Absence, the Words in 
which you described the one must give you an Idea of the other. 
They were hardly distinguishable, you would think, when they 
were apart, tho’ extreamly different when together. What 
made their Enmity the more entertaining to all the rest of 
their Sex was, that in Detraction from each other neither could 
fall upon Terms which did not hit her self as much as her 
Adversary. Their Nights grew restless with Meditation of new 
Dresses to out-vie each otlier, and inventing new Devices to 
recall Admirers, who observed the Charms of the one rather 
than those of the other on the last Meeting. Their Colours 
failed at each other’s Appearance, flushed with Pleasure at the 
Report of a Disadvantage, and their Countenances withered 
upon Instances of Applause. The Decencies to which Women 
are obliged, made these Virgins stifle their Resentment so far 
as not to break into open Violences, while they equally suffered 
the Torments of a regulated Anger. Their Mothers, as it is 
usual, engaged in the Quarrel, and supported the several Pre¬ 
tensions of the Daughters with all that ill-chosen sort of 
Expence which is common with People of plentiful Fortunes 
and mean taste. The Girls preceded their Parents like Queens 
of May, in all the gaudy Colours imaginable, on every Sunday 
to Church, and were exposed to the Examination of the 
Audience for Superiority of Beauty. 

During this constant Struggle it happened, that Phillis one 
Day at publick Prayers smote the Heart of a gay West-Indian, 
who appeared in all the Colours which can affect an Eye that 
could not distinguish between being fine and tawdry. This 
American in a Summer-Island Suit was too shining and too 
gay to be resisted by Phillis, and too intent upon her Charms 
to be diverted by any of the laboured Attractions of Brunetta. 
Soon after, Brunetta had the Mortification to see her Rival 
disposed of in a Wealthy Marriage, while she was only ad¬ 
dressed to in a Manner that shewed she was the Admiration of 
all Men, but the Choice of none. Phillis was carried to the 
Habitation of her Spouse in Barbadoes: Brunetta had the ill 
Nature to enquire for he^ by every Opportunity, and had the 



250 THE SPECTATOR No. 80. Friday, June 1, 1711 

Misfortune to hear of her being attended by numerous Slaves, 
fanned into Slumbers by successive Hands of them, and carried 
from Place to Place in all the Pomp of barbarous Magnificence. 
Brunetta could not endure these repeated Advices, but em¬ 
ployed all her Arts and Charms in laying Baits for any of 
Condition of the same Island, out of a meer Ambition to con¬ 
front her once more before she died. She at last succeeded in 
her Design, and was taken to Wife by a Gentleman whose 
Estate was continuous to that of her Enemy’s Husband. It 
would be endless to ennumerate the many Occasions on which 
these irreconcileable Beauties laboured to excel each other; but 
in Process of Time it happened, that a Ship put into the Island 
consigned to a Friend of Phillis, who had Directions to give 
her the Refusal of all Goods for Apparel, before Brunetta could 
be alarmed of their Arrival. He did so, and Phillis was 
dressed in a few Days in a Brocade more gorgeous and costly 
than had ever before appeared in that Latitude. Brunetta 
languished at the Sight, and could by no Means come up to the 
Bravery of her Antagonist. She communicated her Anguish 
of Mind to a faithful Friend, who by an Interest in the Wife of 
Phillis's Merchant, procured a Remnant of the same Silk for 
Brunetta. Phillis took Pains to appear in all publick Places 
where she was sure to meet Brunetta ; Brunetta was now prepared 
for the Insult, and came to a publick Ball in a plain black Silk 
Mantua, attended by a beautiful Negro Girl in a Petticoat of 
the same Brocade with which Phillis was attired. This drew the 
Attention of the whole Company; upon which the unhappy 
Phillis swooned away, and was immediately conveyed to her 
House. As soon as she came to h(?rself she fled from her 
Husband’s House, went on board a Ship in the Road, and is 
now landed in inconsolable Despair at Plymouth. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

After the above melancholy Narration, it may perhaps be a 
Relief to the Reader to peruse the following Expostulation. 

' To Mr. SPECTATOR. 

The just Remonstrance of affronted That. 

Tho' I deny not the Petition of Mr. Who and Which, yet You 
should not suffer them to be rude, and to call honest People 
Names; For that bears very hard on some ©f those Rules of 
Decency, which You are justly famous for establishing. They 
may find Fault, and correct Speeches in the Senate and at the 
Bar; But let them try to get themselves so often and with so 



No. 8o. Friday, June i, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 251 

much Eloquence repeated in a Sentence, as a great Orator doth 
frequently introduce me. 

My Lords! (says he) with humble Submission, That that I 
say is this; that, That that, that Gentleman has advanced, is 
not That, that he should have proved to your Lordships. Let 
those two questionary Petitioners try to do thus with their 
Whos and their Whiches. 

What great Advantage was I of to Mr. Dry den in his Indian 
Emperor, 

You force me still to answer You in That, 

to furnish out a Rhimo to Moral} And what a poor Figure 
would Mr. Bayes have made without his Egad and all That} 
How can a judicious Man distinguish one thing from another, 
without saying This here, or That there} And how can a sober 
Man, without using the Expletives of Oaths (in which indeed 
the Rakes and Bullies have a great Advantage over others) 
made a Discourse of any tolerable Length, without That is; 
and if he be a very grave Man indeed, without That is to say ? 
And how instructive as well as entertaining are those usual 
ExpreSvSions, in the Mouths of great Men, Such things as That 
and The like of That. 

I am not against reforming the Corruptions of Speech You 
mention, and own there are proper Seasons for the Introduction 
of other Words besides That; but I scorn as much to supply the 
place of a Who or a Which at every Turn, as they are unequal 
always to fill mine; and I expect good Language and civil 
Treatment, and hope to receive it for the future: 'That, that I 
shall only add is, that I am. 

Yours , 

R THAT.* 


The End of the First Volume. 



TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

CHARLES LORD HALLIFAX. 


My LORD, 

SIMILITUDE of Manners and Studies is usually mentioned as 
one of the strongest Motives to Affection and Esteem; but the 
passionate Veneration I have for Your Lordship, I think, flows 
from an Admiration of Qualities in You, of which in the whole 
Course of these Papers I have acknowledged my self incapable. 
While I busie my self as a Stranger upon Earth, and can pre¬ 
tend to no other than being a Looker on. You are conspicuous 
in the Busy and Polite World, both in the World of Men and 
that of Letters: While I am silent and unobserved in publick 
Meetings, You are admired by all that approach You as the 
Life and Genius of the Conversation. What an happy Con¬ 
junction of different Talents meets in him whose whole Dis¬ 
course is at once animated by the Strength and Force of Reason, 
and adorned with all the Graces and Embellishments of Wit ? 
When Learning irradiates common Life, it is then in its highest 
Use and Perfection; and it is to such as Your Lordship that the 
Sciences owe the Esteem which they have with the active Part 
of Mankind. Knowledge of Books in recluse Men, is like that 
sort of Lanthorn which hides him who carries it, and serves 
only to pass through secret and gloomy Paths of his own; but 
in the Possession of a Man of Business, it is as a Torch in 
the Hand of one who is willing and able to shew those, who 
are bewildered, the Way which leads to their Prosperity and 
Welfare. A generous Concern for Your Country, and a Pas¬ 
sion for every thing which is truly Great and Noble, are what 
actuate all Your Life and Actions; and I hope You will forgive 
me that I have an Ambition this Book may be placed in the 
Library of so good a Judge of what is valuable, in that Library 
where the Choice is such that it will not be a .Disparagement to 
be the meanest Author in it. Forgive me, my Lord, for taking 
this Occasion of telling all the World how ardently I Love and 
Honour You; and that I am with the utmost Gratitude for all 
Your Favours, 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's 
most Obliged, 

most Obedient, 

and most Humble Servant, 

THE SPECTATOR. 


252 



THE SPECTATOR. 

VOL. II. 


No. 8i. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, June 2, 1711. 

Qualis ubi audito venantum murmure tigris 

Horruit in maculas . , .—Statius. 

About the middle of last Winter I went to see an Opera at 
the Theatre in the Hay-Market, where I could not but take 
notice of two Parties of very Fine Women, that had placed 
themselves in the opposite Side-Boxes, and seemed drawn up 
in a kind of Battle-Array one against another. After a short 
Survey of them, I found they were Patched differently; the 
Faces, on one Hand, being Spotted on the Right Side of the 
Forehead, and those upon the other on the Left. I quickly 
perceived that they cast Hostile Glances upon one another; 
and that their Patches were placed in those different Situations, 
as Party-Signals to distinguish Friends from Foes. In the 
Middle-Boxes, between these two opposite Bodies, were several 
Ladies who Patched indifferently on both sides of their Faces, 
and seemed to sit there with no other Intention but to see 
the Opera. Upon Enquiry I found, that the Body of Amazons 
on my Right Hand, were Whigs; and those on my Left, 
Tories; and that those who had placed themselves in the 
Middle-Boxes were a Neutral Party, whose Faces had not yet 
declared themselves. These last, however, as I afterwards 
found, diminished daily, and took their Party with one Side 
or the other; insomuch that I observed in several of them, the 
Patches which were before dispersed equally, are now all gone 
over to the Whig, or Tory Side of the P'ace. The Censorious 
say. That the Men whose Hearts are aimed at are very often 
the Occasions that one part of the Face is thus Dishonoured, 
and lyes under a kind of Disgrace, while the other is so much 
Set off and Adorned by the Owner; and that the Patches turn to 
the Right or to the Left, according to the Principles of the Man 
who is most in Favour. But whatever may be the Motives of 
a few Fantastical Coquets, who do not Patch for the Publick 
Good, so much as for their own Private Advantage; it is certain, 
that there are several Women of Honour who Patch out oi 

253 



254 the spectator No. 8 i . Saturday, June 2, 1711 

Principle, and with an Eye to the Interest of their Country. 
Nay, I am informed, that some of them adhere so steadfastly 
to their Party, and are so far from Sacrificing their Zeal for the 
Publick to their Passion for any particular Person, that in a 
late Draught of Marriage-Articles a Lady has stipulated with 
her Husband, That, whatever his Opinions are, she shall be at 
Liberty to Patch on which side she pleases. 

I must here take notice, that Rosalinda, a Famous Whig 
Partizan, has most unfortunately a very beautiful Mole on 
the Tory part of her Forehead; which, being very consyucuous, 
has occasioned many Mistakes, and given an Handle to her 
Enemies to misrepresent her Face, as tho’ it had Revolted 
from the Whig Interest. But whatever this natural Patch 
may seem to intimate, it is well known that her Notions of 
Government are still the same. This unlucky Mole however 
has mis led several Coxcombs; and, like the hanging out of 
false Colours, made some of them converse with Rosalinda in 
what they thought the Spirit of her Party, when on a sudden 
she has given them an unexpected Fire, that has sunk them 
all at once. If Rosalinda is unfortunate in her Mole, Nigranilla 
is as unhappy in a Pimple, which forces her, against her 
Inclinations, to Patch on the Whig side. 

I am told that many Virtuous Matrons, who formerly have 
been taught to believe that this Artificial Spotting of the Face 
was unlawful, are now reconciled by a Zeal for their Cause, to 
what they could not be prompted by a Concern for their 
Beauty. This way of declaring War upon one another, puts 
me in mind of what is reported of the Tigress, that several 
Spots rise in her Skin when she is angr}^; or as Mr. Cowley has 
imitated the Verses that stand as the Motto of this Paper, 

, . . She Swells with angry Pride, 

And calls forth all her Spots on ev’ry side. 

When I was in the Theatre the time above-mentioned, I had 
the Curiosity to count the Patches on both Sides, and found 
the Tory patches to be about twenty Stronger than the Whig; 
but to make amends for this small Inequality, I the next 
Morning found the whole Puppet-show filled with the Faces 
spotted after the Whiggish manner. Whether or no the 
Ladies had retreated hither in order to rally their Forces I 
cannot tell: but the next Night they came in so great a Body 
to the Opera, that they outnumbered the Enemy. 

This Account of Party-Patches will, I am afraid, appear 
improbable to those who live at a distance from the fashionable 
W’orld; but as it is a Distinction of a very singular Nature, 
and what j)erhaps may never meet with a Parallel, I think I 



No. 8i. Saturday, June 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 255 

should not have discharged the Office of a faithful Spectator 
had I not recorded it. 

I have, in former Papers, endeavoured to expose this Party- 
Rage in Women, as it only serves to aggravate the Hatreds and 
Animosities that reign among Men, and in a great measure 
deprives the Fair Sex of those peculiar Charms with which 
Nature has endowed them. 

When the Romans and Sabines were at War, and just upon 
the point of giving Battle, the Women, who were allied to both 
of them, interposed with so many Tears and Intreaties, that 
they prevented the mutual Slaughter which threatned both 
Parties, and united them together in a firm and lasting Peace. 

I would recommend this noble Example to our British 
Ladies, at a time when their Country is torn with so many un¬ 
natural Divisions, that if they contiue, it will be a Misfortune 
to be born in it. The Greeks thought it so improper for Women 
to interest themselves in Competitions and Contentions, that 
for this Reason, among others, they forbad them, under Pain 
of Death, to be present at the Olympick Games, notwithstand¬ 
ing these were the publick Diversions of all Greece. 

As our English Women excel those of all Nations in Beauty, 
they should endeavour to outshine them in all other Accom¬ 
plishments proper to the Sex, and to distinguish themselves 
as tender Mothers and faithful Wives, rather than as furious 
Partizans. Female Virtues are of a Domcstick turn. The 
Family is the proper Province for Private Women to Shine in. 
If they must be showing their Zeal for the Publick, let it not be 
against those who are perhaps of the same Family, or at least 
of the same Religion or Nation, but against those who are the 
open, professed, undoubted Enemies of their Faith, Liberty, 
and Country. When the Romans were pressed with a Foreign 
Enemy, the Ladies voluntarily contributed all their Rings and 
Jewels to assist the Government under a publick Exigence; 
which appeared so laudable an Action in the Eyes of their 
Countrymen, that from thenceforth it was permitted by a 
Law to pronounce publick Orations at the Funeral of a Woman 
in Praise of tlie deceased Person, which till that time was 
peculiar to Men. Would our English Ladies, instead of stick¬ 
ing on a Patch against those of their own Country, shew them¬ 
selves so truly Publick-spiritcd as to Sacrifice every one her 
Necklace against the Common Enemy, what Decrees ought not 
to be made in favour of them? 

Since I am recollecting upon this Subject such Passages 
as occur to my Memory out of ancient Authors, I cannot omit 
a Sentence in the Celebrated Funeral Oration of Pericles, which 
he made in Honour of those Brave Athenians that were Slain* 

I__*i 164 



256 THE SPECTATOR No. 81. Saturday, June 2, 1711 

in a Fight with the Lacedemonians. After having addressed 
himself to the several Ranks and Orders of his Countrymen, 
and shewn them how they should behave themselves in the 
Publick Cause, he turns to the Female part of his Audience; 
*And as for you (says he) I shall advise you in very few Words: 
Aspire only to those Virtues that are peculiar to your Sex: 
follow your natural Modesty, and think it your greatest 
Commendation not to be talked of one way or other.’ C 


No. 82. 

[STEELE.] Monday, June 4. 

. , . Caput domina venale sub hasta. —Juv. 

Passing under Ludgate the other Day I heard a Voice bawling 
for Charity, which I thought I had somewhere heard before. 
Coming near to the Grate, the Prisoner called me by my Name, 
and desired I would throw something into the Box: I was out of 
Countenance for him, and did as he bid me, by putting in half 
a Crown. I went away reflecting upon the strange Constitu¬ 
tion of some Men, and how meanly they behave themselves in 
all Sorts of Conditions. The Person who begged of me is 
now, as I take it. Fifty: I was well acquainted with him till 
about the Age of Twenty five; at which Time a good Estate 
fell to him, by the Death of a Relation. Upon coming to this 
unexpected good Fortune, he ran into all the Extravagan¬ 
cies imaginable; was frequently in drunken Disputes, broke 
Drawers' Heads, talked and swore loud; was unmannerly to 
those above him, and insolent to those below him. I could 
not but remark, that it was the same Baseness of Spirit which 
worked in his Behaviour in both Fortunes: The same little 
Mind was in.solent in Riches, and shameless in Poverty. This 
Accident made me muse upon the Circumstance of being in 
Debt in general, and solve in my Mind what Tempers were most 
apt to fall into this Errour of Life, as well as the Misfortune it 
must needs be to languish under such Pressures. As for my 
self, my natural Aversion to that Sort of Conversation which 
makes a Figure with the Generality of Mankind, exempts me 
from any Temptations to Expence; and all my Business hes 
within a very narrow Compass, which is, only to give an honest 
Man who takes care of my Estate proper Vouchers for his 
quarterly Payments to me, and observe what Linnen my 
Laundress brings and takes away with her once a Week: My 
Steward brings his Receipt ready for my signing, and I have a 

B Implement with the respective Names of Shirts, Cravats, 
terchiefs and Stockings, with proper Numbers to know 



No. 82. Monday, June 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 257 

how to reckon with my Laundress. This being almost all the 
Business I have in the World for the Care of my own Affairs, 

I am at full Leisure to observe upon what others do, with 
Relation to their Equipage and Oeconomy. 

When I walk the Street, and observe the Hurry about me 
in this Town, 

Where with like Haste, tho‘ different Ways, they run; 

Some to undo, and some to be undone, 

I say, when I behold this vast Variety of Persons and 
Humours, with the Pains they both take for the Accomplish¬ 
ment of the Ends mentioned in the above Verses of Denham, 

I cannot much wonder at the Endeavour after Gain; but am 
extreamly astonished that Men can be so insensible of the 
Danger of running into Debt. One would think it impossible 
a Man who is given to contract Debts should know, that his 
Creditor has from that Moment in which he transgresses 
Payment, so much as that Demand comes to in his Debtor’s 
Honour, Liberty and Fortune. One would think he did not 
know, that his Creditor can say the worst thing imaginable of 
him, to wit, That he is unjust, without Defamation; and can 
sieze his Person, without being guilty of an Assault. Yet such 
is the loose and abandoned Turn of some Men's Minds, that 
they can live under these constant Apprehensions, and still 
go on to encrease the Cause of them. Can there be a more 
low and servile Condition, than to be ashamed, or afraid, to 
see any one Man breathing? Yet he that is much in debt, is 
in that Condition with relation to twenty different People. 
There are indeed Circumstances wherein Men of honest Natures 
may become liable to Debts, by some unadvised Behaviour in 
any great Point of ttieir Life, or mortgaging a Man's Honesty 
as a Security for that of another, and the like; but these 
Instances are so particular and circumstantiated, that they 
cannot come within general Considerations: For one such Case 
as one of these, there are ten, where a Man, to keep up a Farce 
of Retinue and Grandeur within his own House, shall shrink 
at the Expectation of surly Demands at his Doors. The 
Debtor is the Creditor's Criminal, and all the Officers of Power 
and State whom we behold make so great a Figure, are no other 
than so many Persons in Authority to make good his Charge 
against him. Humane Society depends upon his having the Ven¬ 
geance Law allots him; and the Debtor owes his Liberty to his 
Neighbour, as much as the Murdreer does his Life to his Prince. 

Our Gentry are, generally speaking, in debt; and many 
Families have put it into a kind of Method of being so from 
Generation to Generation. The Father mortgages when his. 



258 THE SPECTATOR No. 82. Monday, June 4, 1711 

Son is very young; and the Boy is to marry as soon as he is at 
Age, to redeem it, and find Portions for his Sisters. This, for¬ 
sooth, is no great Inconvenience to him; for he may wench, 
keep a piiblick Table, or feed Dogs, like a worthy English 
Gentleman, till he has outrun half his Estate, and leave the 
same Incumbrance upon his First-born; and so on, till one Man 
of more Vigour than ordinary goes quite through the Estate, 
or some Man of Sense comes into it, and scorns to have an 
Estate in Partnership, that is to say, liable to the Demand or 
Insult of any Man living. There is my friend Sir Andrew, 
tho' for many Years a great and general Trader, was never 
the Defendant in a Law Suit, in all the Perplexity of Business, 
and the Iniquity of Mankind at present; No one had any Colour 
for the least Complaint against his Dealings with him. This is 
certainly as uncommon, and in its Proportion as laudable in 
a Citizen, as it is in a General never to have suffered a Dis¬ 
advantage in Fight. How different from this Gentleman is 
Jack Truepenny, who has been an old Acquaintance of Sir 
Andrew and my self from Boys, but could never learn our 
Caution. Jack has a whorish unresisting good Nature, which 
makes him incapable of having a Property in any thing. His 
Fortune, his Reputation, his Time and his Capacity, are at 
any Man’s Service that comes first. When he was at School, 
he was whipp'd thrice a Week for Faults he took upon him 
to excuse others; since he came into the Business of the World, 
he has been arrested twice or thrice a Year for Debts he had 
nothing to do with but as Surety for others; and I remember 
when a Friend of his had suffered in the Vice of the Town, all 
the Physick his Friend took was conveyed to him by Jack, 
and inscribed, 'A Bolus or an Electuary for Mr. Truepenny.* 
Jack had a good Estate left him, which came to nothing; be¬ 
cause he believed all who pretended to Demands upon it. 
This Easiness and Credulity destroy all the other Merit he has: 
and he has all his Life been a Sacrifice to others, without ever 
receiving Thanks or doing one good Action. 

I will end this Discourse with a Speech which I heard Jack 
make to one of his Creditors (of whom he deserved gentler 
Usage) after lying a whole Night in Custody at his Suit. 

‘Sir, 

Your Ingratitude for the many Kindnesses I have done you, 
shall not make me unthankful for the Good you have done me, 
in letting me see there is such a Man as you in the World. 
I am obliged to you for the Diifidence I shall have all the rest 
of my Life: I shall hereafter trust no Man so far as to be in 
his Debt.* R 



No. 83. Tuesday, June 5, 1711 THE SPECTAl'OR 259 
No. 83. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, June 5. 

. . . Animum xAciutdi pascit —Virg. 

When the Weather hinders me from taking my Diversions 
without Doors, I frequently make a little Party with two or 
three select Friends, to visit any thing curious that may be 
seen under Covert. My principal Entertainments of this 
Nature are Pictures, insomuch that when I have found the 
Weather set in to be very bad, 1 have taken a whole Day's 
Journey to see a Galley that is furnished by the Hands of great 
Masters. Tly this Means, when the Heavens are filled with 
Clouds, when the Earth swims in Rain, and all Nature wears a 
lowring Countenance, I withdraw my self from these uncom¬ 
fortable Scenes into the visionary Worlds of Art; where I meet 
with shining Landskips, gilded Triumphs, beautiful Faces, and 
all those other Objects that fill the Mind with gay Ideas, and 
disperse that Gloominess which is apt to hang upon it in those 
dark disconsolate Seasons. 

I was some Weeks ago in a Course of these Diversions; which 
had taken such an entire Possession of my Imagination, that 
they formed in it a short Morning's Dream, which I shall com¬ 
municate to my Reader, rather as the first Sketch and Outlines 
of a Vision than as a finished Piece. 

I dreamt that I was admitted into a long spacious Gallery, 
which had one Side covered with Pieces of all the famous 
Painters who are now living, and the other with the Works 
of the greatest Masters that are dead. 

On the side of the Living 1 saw several Persons busy in 
Drawing, Colouring, and Designing; on the Side of the Dead 
Painters I could not discover more than one Person at work, 
who was exceeding slow in his Motions, and wonderfully nice 
in his Touches. 

I was resolved to examine the several Artists that stood 
before me, and accordingly applied my self to the Side of the 
Living. 'The first I observed at work in this Part of the 
Gallery was Vanity, with his Hair tied behind him in a 
Ribbon, and dressed like a Frenchman. All the Faces he 
drew, were very remarkable for their Smiles, and a certain 
smirking Air which he bestowed indifferently on every Age 
and Degree of either Sex. The Toujours Gai appeared even 
in his Judges, Bishops, and Privy-Counsellors: In a Word, all 
his Men were Petits Maitres, and all his Women Coquets. 
The Drapery of his Figures was extreamly well suited to his 
Faces, and was made up of all the glaring Colours that could be 



26o the spectator No. 83. Tuesday, June 5, 1711 

mixt together; every Part of the Dress was in a Flutter, and 
endeavoured to distinguish it self above the rest. 

On the Left-hand of Vanity stood a laborious Workman, 
who I found was his humble Admirer, and copied after him. 
He was dressed like a German, and had a very hard Name 
that sounded something like Stupidity. 

The third Artist that I looked over was Fantasque, dressed 
like a Venetian Scaramouch. He had an excellent Hand at a 
Chimera, and dealt very much in Distortions and Grimaces. 
He would sometimes affright himself with the Phantoms that 
flowed from his Pencil. In short, the most elaborate of his 
Pieces was at best but a terrifying Dream; and one could say 
nothing more of his finest Figures, than that they were agree¬ 
able Monsters. 

The fourth Person I examined was very remarkable for his 
hasty Hand, which left his Pictures so unfinished, that the 
Beauty in the Picture (which was designed to continue as a 
Monument of it to Posterity) faded sooner than in the Person 
after whom it was drawn. He made so much Haste to dis¬ 
patch his Business, that he neither gave himself Time to clean 
his Pencils nor mix hi.s Colours. The Name of this expeditious 
Workman was Avarice. 

Not far from this Artist I saw another of a quite different 
Nature, who was dressed in the Habit of a Dutchman, and 
known by the Name of Industry. His Figures were wonder¬ 
fully laboured: If he drew the Portraiture of a Man, he did not 
omit a single Hair in his Face; if the Figure of a Ship, there was 
not a Rope among the Tackle that escaped him. He had like¬ 
wise bung a great Part of the Wall with Night-Pieces, that 
seemed to show themselves by the Candles which were lighted 
up in several Parts of them; and were so inflamed by the 
Sun-shine which accidentally fell upon them, that at first 
Sight I could scarce forbear crying out Fire. 

The five foregoing Artists were the most considerable on this 
Side the Gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had 
not Time to look into. One of them however I could not 
forbear observing, who was very busy in retouching the finest 
Pieces, though he produced no Originals of his own. His 
Pencil aggravated every Feature that was before over-charged, 
loaded every Defect, and poisoned every Colour it touched. 
Though this Workman did so much Mischief on the Side of the 
Living, he never turned his Eye towards that of the Dead. 
His Name was Envy. 

Having taken a cursory View of one Side of the Gallery, 
I turned my self to that which was filled by the Works of those 



No. 83. Tuesday, June 5, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 261 

great Masters that were dead; when immediately I fancied 
my self standing before a Multitude of Spectators, and thou¬ 
sands of Eyes looking upon me at once; for all before me 
appeared so like Men and Women, that I almost forgot they 
were Pictures. Raphael's Figures stood in one Row, Titian's 
in another, Guido Rheni's in a third. One part of the Wall 
was peopled by Hanibal Carrache, another by Correggio, and 
another by Rubens. To be short, there was not a great Master 
among the Dead who had not contributed to the Embellish¬ 
ment of this Side of the Gallery. The Persons that owed their 
Being to these several Masters, appeared all of them to be real 
and alive, and differed among one another only in the Variety 
of their Shapes, Complexions, and Cloaths; so that they looked 
like different Nations of the same Species. 

Observing an old Man (who was the same Person I before 
mentioned, as the only Artist that was at work on this Side 
of the Gallery) creeping up and down from one Picture to 
another, and re-touching all the fine Pieces that stood before 
me, I could not but be very attentive to all his Motions. I 
found his Pencil was so vei*}' light that it worked imperceptibly, 
and after a thousand Touches scarce produced any visible 
Effect in the Picture on which he was employ'd. However, 
as he busied himself ince.ssaiitly, and repeated Touch after 
Touch without Rest or Intermission, he wore off insensibly 
every little disagreeable Gloss that hung upon a Figure: He 
also added such a beautiful Brown to the Shades, and Mellow¬ 
ness to the Colours, that he made every Picture appear more 
perfect than when it came fresh from the Master's Pencil. I 
could not forbear looking upon the Face of this ancient Work¬ 
man, and immediately by the long Lock of Hair upon his 
Forehead discovered him to be Time. 

Whether it were because the Thread of my Dream was at 
an end I cannot tell, but upon my taking a Survey of this 
imaginary old Man my Sleep left me. C 


No. 84. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, June 6. 

. . . Quis talia fando 

Myrmidonum Dolopumve aut duri miles Ulyssei 
Temperet a lachrymis. —Virg. 

Looking over the old Manuscript wherein the private Actions 
of Pharamond are set down by way of Table-book, I found 
many things which gave me great Delight; and as human. 



262 THE SPECTATOR No. 84. Wednesday, June 6, 

Life turns upon the same Principles and Passions in all Ages, 

I thought it very proper to take Minutes of what passed in that 
Age, for the Instruction of this. The Antiquary who lent me 
these Papers gave me a Character of Eucrate, the Favourite of 
Pharamond, extracted from an Author who lived in that Court. 
The Account he gives both of the Prince and this his faithful 
Friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have 
Occasion to mention many of their Conversations, into which 
these Memorials of them may give Light. 

'Pharamond, when he had a Mind to retire for an Hour or 
two from the Hurry of Business and Fatigue of Ceremony, 
made a Signal to Eucrate, by putting his Hand to his Face, 
placing his Arm negligently on a Window, or some such Action 
as appeared indifferent to all the rest of the Company. Upon 
such Notice, unobserved by others (for their entire Intimacy 
was always a Secret), Eucrate repaired to his own Apartment 
to receive the King. There was a secret Access to this Part 
of the Court, at which Eucrate used to admit many whose mean 
Appearance in the Eyes of the ordinary Waiters and Door¬ 
keepers made them be repulsed from other Parts of the Palace. 
Such as these were let in here by Order of Eucrate, and had 
Audiences of Pharamond. This Entrance Pharamond called 
the Gate of the Unhappy, and the Tears of the Afflicted who 
came before him, he would say were Bribes received by Eucrate', 
for Eucrate had the most compassionate Spirit of all Men 
living, except his generous Master, who was always kindled 
at the least Affliction which was communicated to him. In 
the Regard for the Miserable, Eucrate took particular Care, 
that the common Forms of Distress, and the idle Pretenders to 
Sorrow, about Courts, who wanted only Supplies to Luxury, 
should never obtain Favour by his Means: But the Distresses 
which arise from the many inexplicable Occurrences that 
happen among Men, the unaccountable Alienation of Parents 
from their Children, Cruelty of Husbands to Wives, Poverty 
occasioned from Shipwreck or Fire, the falling out of Friends, 
or such other terrible Disasters to which the Life of Man is 
exposed; In Cases of this Nature, Eucrate was the Patron; 
and enjoyed this Part of the royal Favour so much without 
being envied, that it was never enquired into by whose Means, 
what no one else cared for doing, was brought about. 

One Evening when Pharamond came into the Apartment of 
Eucrate, he found him extremely dejected; upon which he 
asked (with a Smile which was natural to him) “What, is there 
any one too miserable to be relieved by Pharamond, that 
Eucrate is melancholy?" “I fear there is," answered the 



No. 84. Wednesday, June 6 , ijii THE SPECTATOR 263 

Favourite; '*a Person without, of a good Air, well dressed, and 
tho’ a Man in the Strength of his Life, seems to faint under some 
inconsolable Calamity: All his Features seem suffused with 
Agony of Mind; but I can observe in him, that it is more 
inclined to break away in Tears than Rage. I asked him what 
he would have; he said he would speak to Pharamond. I 
desired his Business; he could hardly say to me, Eucrate, carry 
me to the King, my Story is not to be told twice, I fear I 
shall not be able to speak it at all." Pharamond commanded 
Eucrate to let him enter; he did so, and the Gentleman ap¬ 
proached the King with an Air which spoke him under the 
greatest concern in what manner to demean himself. The 
King, who had a quick Discerning, relieved him from the 
Oppression he was under; and with the most beautiful Com¬ 
placency said to him, "Sir, do not add to that Load of Sorrow 
I see in your Countenance, the Awe of my Presence; Think you 
are speaking to your Friend; if the Circumstances of your 
Distress will admit of it, you shall find me so." To whom the 
Stranger: "Oh excellent Pharamond, name not a Friend to the 
unfortunate Spinamoni: I had one but he is dead by my own 
Hand; but, oh Pharamond, tho' it was by the Hand of Spina- 
mont, it was by the Guilt of Pharamond, I come not, oh 
excellent Prince, to implore your Pardon; I come to relate my 
Sorrow, a Sorrow too great for humane Life to support: From 
henceforth shall all Occurrences appear Dreams or short 
Intervals of Amusement, from this one Affliction which has 
siez'd my very Being. Pardon me, oh Pharamond, if my 
Griefs give me Leave, that I lay before you, in the Anguish 
of a wounded Mind, that you. Good as you are, are guilty of 
the generous Blood spilt this Day by this unhappy Hand: 
Oh that it had perished before that Instant!" Here the 
Stranger paused, and recollecting his Mind after some little 
Meditation, he went on in a calmer Tone and Gesture as 
follows. 

"There is an Authority due to Distress; and as none of 
humane Race is above the Reach of Sorrow, none should be 
above the hearing the Voice of it: I am sure Pharamond is not. 
Know then, that I have this Morning unfortunately killed in a 
Duel the Man whom of all Men living I most loved. I command 
my self too much in your Royal Presence, to say Pharamond 
give me my Friend! Pharamond has taken him from me! 
I will not say, shall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own 
Subjects ? Will the Father of his Country murder his People ? 
But, the merciful Pharamond does destroy his Subjects, the 
Father of his Country does murder his People. Fortune is so 
much the Pursuit of Mankind, that all Glory and Honour is in 



264 THE SPECTATOR No. 84. Wednesday, June 6, 1711 

the Power of a Prince, because he has the Distribution of their 
Fortunes. It is therefore the Inadvertency, Negligence or 
Guilt of Princes, to let any thing grow into Custom which is 
against their Laws. A Court can make Fashion and Duty 
walk together; it can never, without the Guilt of a Court, 
happen, that it shall not be unfashionable to do what is un¬ 
lawful. But alasl in the Dominions of Pharamond, by the 
Force of a Tyrant Custom, which is misnamed a Point of 
Honour, the Duellist kills his Friend whom he loves; and the 
Judge condemns the Duellist, while he approves his Behaviour. 
Shame is the greatest of all Evils; what avail Laws, when 
Death only attends the Breach of them, and Shame Obedience 
to them ? As for me, oh Pharamond, were it possible to de¬ 
scribe the nameless Kinds of Compunctions and Tendernesses I 
feel, when I reflect upon tlie little Accidents in our former 
Familiarity, my Mind swells into Sorrow which cannot be re¬ 
sisted enough to be silent in the Presence of Pharamond.’ 
With that he fell into a Flood of Tears, and wept aloud. ' Why 
should not Pharamond hear the Anguish he only can relieve 
others from in time to come? Let him hear from me, what 
they feel who have given Death by the false Mercy of his 
Administration, and form to himself the Vengeance called for 
by those who have perished by his Negligence."' P 


No. 85. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, June, 7. 

Interdum speciosa locis morataque recte 
Fabula nullius Veneris, sine pondere arte, 

Valdius ohlectat populum meliusque moratur, 

Quam versus inopes rerum nugaeque canorae .— Hor. 

It is the Custom of the Mahometans, if they see any printed or 
written Paper upon the Ground, to take it up and lay it aside 
carefully, as not knowing but it may contain some Piece of their 
Alcoran. I must confess I have so much of the Mussulman 
in me, that I cannot forbear looking into every Printed Paper 
which comes in my way, under whatsoever despicable Circum¬ 
stances it may appear: For as no Mortal Author, in the ordinary 
Fate and Vicissitude of Things, Imows to what use his Works 
may, some time or other, be applied, a Man may often meet 
with very celebrated Names in a Paper of Tobacco. I have 
lighted my Pipe more than once with the Writings of a Prelate; 
and know a Friend of mine who, for these several Years, has 
converted the Essays of a Man of Quality into a kind of Fringe 



No. 85. Thursday, June 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 265 

for his Candlesticks. I remember, in particular, after having 
read over a Poem of an Eminent Author on a Victory, I met 
with several Fragments of it upon the next Rejoycing-day, 
which had been employed in Squibs and Crackers, and by that 
means celebrated its Subject in a double Capacity. I once met 
with a Page of Mr. Baxter under a Christmas Pye. Whether 
or no the Pastry-Cook had made use of it through Chance, or 
Waggery, for the defence of that superstitious Viande, I 
know not; but, upon the Perusal of it, I conceived so good an 
Idea of the Author's Piety, that I bought the whole Book. I 
have often profited by these accidental Readings, and have 
sometimes found very Curious Pieces, that are either out of 
Print, or not to be met with in the Shops of our London 
Booksellers. For this Reason, when my Friends take a Sur¬ 
vey of my Library, they are very much surprised to find, upon 
the Shelf of Folios, two long Band-boxes standing upright 
among my Books; till I let them see that they are both of them 
lined with deep Erudition and abstruse Literature. I might 
likewise mention a Paper Kite, from which I have received 
great Improvement; and a Hat-case, which I would not ex¬ 
change for all the Beavers in Great Britain. This my in¬ 
quisitive Temper, or rather impertinent Humour of prying 
into all sorts of Writing, with my natural Aversion to Loquacity, 
give me a good deal of Employment when I enter any House in 
the Country; for I can’t, for my Heart, leave a Room before I 
have thoroughly studied the Walls of it, and examined the 
several printed Papers which are usually pasted upon them. 
The last Piece that I met with upon this Occasion, gave me a 
most exquisite Pleasure. My Reader will think I am not 
serious, when I acquaint him that the Piece I am going to 
speak of was the old Ballad of the Two Children in the Wood, 
which is one of the Darling Songs of the Common People, 
and has been the Delight of most Englishmen in some Part of 
their Age. 

This Song is a plain simple Copy of Nature, destitute of all 
the Helps and Ornaments of Art. The Tale of it is a pretty 
Tragical Story; and pleases for no other Reason, but because 
it is a Copy of Nature. There is even a despicable Simplicity 
in the Verse; and yet, because the Sentiments appear genuine 
and unaffected, they are able to move the Mind of the most 
polite Reader with inward Meltings of Humanity and Com¬ 
passion. The Incidents grow out of the Subject, and are such 
as are the most proper to excite Pity. For which Reason the 
whole Narration has something in it very moving; notwith¬ 
standing the Author of it (whoever he was) has delivered it in 
such an abject Phrase, and poorness of Expression, that the 



266 THE SPECTATOR No. 85. Thursday. June 7, 1711 

quoting any part of it would look like a Design of turning it 
into Ridicule. But though the Language is mean, the Thoughts, 
as I have said, from one end to the other are natural: and there¬ 
fore cannot fail to please those who are not Judges of Language, 
or those who notwithstanding they are Judges of Language, 
have a true and unprejudiced Taste of Nature. The Condition, 
Speech, and Behaviour of the dying Parents, with the Age, 
Innocence, and Distress of the Children, are set forth in such 
tender Circumstances, that it is impossible for a Reader of 
common Humanity not to be affected with them. As for the 
Circumstance of the Robin-red-breast, it is indeed a little 
Poetical Ornament; and to shew the Genius of the Author 
amidst all his Simplicity, it is just the same kind of Fiction 
which one of the greatest of the Latin Poets has made use of 
upon a Parallel Occasion; I mean that Passage in Horace, 
where he describes himself when he was a Child, fallen asleep 
in a Desart Wood, and covered with Leaves by the Turtles 
that took pity on him. 

Me fabulosae Vulture in Apiilo 

Ally ids extra limen Apuliae 
Ludo fatigatumque somno 

Fronde nova puerum palumhes 

Texere . . . 

I have heard that the late Lord Dorset, who had the 
greatest Wit tempered with the greatest Candour, and was one 
of the finest Criticks as well as the best Poets of his Age, had a 
numerous Collection of old English Ballads, and took a particu¬ 
lar Pleasure in the Reading of them. I can affirm the same of 
Mr. Dryuen ; and know several of the most refined Writers of 
our present Age, who are of the same Humour. 

I might likewise refer my Reader to Moliere’s Thoughts on 
this Subject, as he has expressed them in the Character of the 
Misanthrope’, but those only who are endowed with a true 
Greatness of Soul and Genius, can divest themselves of the 
little Images of Ridicule, and admire Nature in her Simplicity 
and Nakedness. As for the little conceited Wits of the Age, 
who can only shew their Judgment by finding Fault; they 
cannot be supposed to admire these Productions which have 
nothing to recommend them, but the Beauties of Nature, when 
they do not know how to relish even those Compositions that, 
with all the Beauties of Nature, have also the additional 
Advantages of Art. L 



No. 86. Friday, June 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 267 
No. 86. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, June 8. 

Heu quam difficile est crimen non prodere vttUu! —Ovid. 

There arc several Arts which all Men are in some Measure 
Masters of, without having been at the Pains of learning them. 
Every one that speaks or reasons is a Grammarian and a 
Logician, though he may be wholly unacquainted with the 
Rules of Grammar or Logick, as they are delivered in Books 
and Systems. In the same Manner, every one is in some De¬ 
gree a Master of that Art, which is generally distinguished by 
the Name of Physiognomy; and naturally forms to himself the 
Character or Fortune of a Stranger, from the Features and 
Lineaments of his Face. We are no sooner presented to any 
one we never saw before, but we are immediately struck 
with the Idea of a proud, a reserved, an affable, or a good- 
natured Man; and upon our first going into a Company of 
Strangers, our Benevolence or Aversion, Awe or Contempt, 
rises naturally towards several particular Persons, before we 
have heard them speak a single Word, or so much as know 
who they are. 

Every Passion gives a particular Cast to the Countenance, 
and is apt to discover itself in some Feature or other. I have 
seen an Eye curse for half an liour together, and an Eye-brow 
call a Man Scoundrel. Nothing is more common than for 
Lovers to complain, resent, languish, despair, and dye, in 
dumb Show. For my own Part, I am so apt to frame a Notion 
of every Man’s Humour or Circumstances by his Looks, that I 
have sometimes employed my self from Charing-Cross to the 
Royal-Exchange in drawing the Characters of those who have 
passed by me. When I see a Man with a sour rivcll'd Face, 
I cannot forbear pitying his Wife; and when I meet with an 
open ingenuous Countenance, think on the Happiness of his 
Friends, his Family, and Relations. 

I cannot recollect the Author of a famous Saying to a 
Stranger who stood silent in his Company, Speak that I may see 
thee : But with Submission, I think we may be'better known by 
our Looks than by our Words; and that a Man's Speech is much 
more easily disguised than his Countenance. In this Case how¬ 
ever, I think the Air of the whole Face is much more expressive 
than the Lines of it: The Truth of it is, the Air is generally 
nothing else but the inward Disposition of the Mind made 
visible. 

Those who have established Physiognomy into an Art, and 
laid down Rules of judging Men's Tempers by their Faces, 



268 THE SPECTATOR No. 86. Friday, June S, 1711 

have regarded the Features much more than the Air. Mat Hal 
has a pretty Epigram on this Subject. 

Crine ruber, niger ore, brevis pede, lumine laesus, 

Rem magnam praestas, Zoile, si bonus es. 

Thy Beard and Head are of a different Die; 

Short of one Foot, distorted in an Eye: 

With all these Tokens of a Knave compleat. 

Should’st thou be honest, thou’rt a dev’lish Cheat. 

I have seen a very ingenious Author on this Subject, who 
founds his Speculations on the Supposition, That as a Man hath 
in the Mould of his Face a remote Likeness to that of an Ox, 
a Sheep, a Lyon, an Hog, or any other Creature; he hath the 
same Resemblance in the Frame of his Mind, and is subject 
to those Passions which are predominant in the Creature that 
appears in his Countenance. Accordingly he gives the Prints 
of several Faces that are of a different Mould; and by a little 
overcharging the Likeness, discovers the Figures of these 
several Kinds of brutal Faces in human Features. I remember 
in the Life of the famous Prince of Conde the Writer observes, 
the Face of that Prince was like the Face of an Eagle, and that 
the Prince was very well pleased to be told so. In this Case 
therefore we may be sure, that he had in his Mind some general 
implicit Notion of this Art of Physiognomy which I have just 
now mentioned; and that when his Couitiers told him his Face 
was made like an Eagle's, he understood them in the same 
Manner as if they had told him, there was something in his 
Looks which shewed him to be strong, active, piercing, and of 
a royal Descent. Whether or no the different Motions of the 
Animal Spirits in different Passions, may have any Effect on 
the Mould of the Face when the Lineaments are pliable and 
tender, or whether the same Kind of Souls require the same 
Kind of Habitations, I shall leave to the Consideration of the 
Curious. In the mean Time I think nothing can be more 
glorious than for a Man to give the Lie to his Face, and to be 
an honest, just, good-natured Man, in spite of all those Marks 
and Signatures which Nature seems to have set upon him for 
the Contrary. This very often happens among those, who 
instead of being exasperated by their own Looks, or envying 
the Looks of others, apply themselves entirely to the culti¬ 
vating of their Minds, and getting those Beauties which are 
more lasting and more ornamental. I have seen many an 
amiable Piece of Deformity;* and have observed a certain 
Chearfulness in as bad a System of Features as ever was 
clap'd together, which hath appeared more lovely than all the 



No. 86. Friday, June 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 269 

blooming Charms of an insolent Beauty. There is a double 
Praise due to Virtue, when it is lodged in a Body that seems 
to have been prepared for the Reception of Vice; in many such 
Cases the Soul and the Body do not seem to be Fellows. 

Socrates was an extraordinary Instance of this Nature, 
There chanced to be a great Physiognomist in his Time at 
Athens, who had made strange Discoveries of Men's Tempers 
and Inclinations by their outward Appearances. Socrates*^ 
Disciples, that they might put this Artist to the Trial, carried 
him to their Master, whom he had never seen before, and did 
not know he was then in Company with him. After a short 
Examination of his Face, the Physiognomist pronounced him 
the most lewd, libidinous, drunken old Fellow that he had ever 
met with in his whole Life. Upon which the Disciples all 
burst out a laughing, as thinking they had detected the 
Falshood and Vanity of his Art: But Socrates told them, That 
the Principles of his Art might be very true, notwithstanding 
his present Mistake; for that he himself was naturally inclined 
to those particular Vices which the Physiognomist had dis¬ 
covered in his Countenance, but that he had conquered the 
strong Dispositions he was born with, by the Dictates of 
Philosophy. 

We are indeed told by an ancient Author, that Socrates 
very much resembled Silenus in his Face; which we find to 
have been very rightly observed from the Statues and Busts 
of both, that are still extant; as well as on several antique 
Seals and precious Stones, which are frequently enough to be 
met with in the Cabinets of the Curious. But however Ob¬ 
servations of this Nature may sometimes hold, a wise Man 
should be particularly cautious how he gives Credit to a Man's 
outward Appearance. It is an irreparable Injustice we are 
guilty of towards one another, when we are prejudiced by the 
Lookjs and Features of those whom we do not know. How 
often do we conceive Hatred against a Person of Worth, or 
fancy a Man to be proud and ill-natured by his Aspect, whom 
we think we cannot esteem too much when we are acquainted 
with his real Character ? Dr. Moore, in his admirable System 
of Ethicks, reckons this particular Inclination to take a 
Prejudice against a Man for his Looks, among the smaller 
Vices in Morality; and, if I remember, gives it the Name of a 
Prosopolepsia. L 



270 THE SPECTATOR No. S7. Saturday, June g, 1711 
No. 87. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, June 9. 

. . . Nimium ne crede colori. —Virg. 

It has been the Purpose of several of my Speculations to bring 
People to an unconcerned Behaviour, with relation to their 
Persons, whether Beautiful or Defective. As the Secrets of 
the Ugly Club were exposed to the Publick, that Men might 
see there were some Noble Spirits in the Age, who were not at 
all displeased with themselves upon Considerations which they 
had no Choice in; So the Discourse concerning Idols, tended to 
lessen the Value People put upon themselves from personal 
Advantages, and Gifts of Nature. As to the latter Species of 
Mankind, the Beauties, whether Male or Female; they are 
generally the most untractable People of all others. You 
are so excessively perplexed with the Particularities in their 
Behaviour, that, to be at Ease, one would be apt to wish 
there were no such Creatures. They expect so great Allow¬ 
ances, and give so little to others, that they who have to do 
with them find in the main, a Man with a better Person than 
ordinary, and a Beautiful Woman, might be very happily 
changed for such to whom Nature has been less Liberal. The 
Handsome Fellow is usually so much a Gentleman, and the 
fine Woman has something so becoming, that there is no 
enduring either of them. It has therefore been generally 
my Choice to mix with chearful Ugly Creatures, rather than 
Gentlemen who are Graceful enough to omit or do what they 
please; or Beauties who have Charms enough to do and say 
what would be disobliging in any but themselves. 

Diffidence and Presumption, upon account of our Persons, 
are equally Faults; and both arise from the want of knowing, 
or rather endeavouring to know, our selves, and for what we 
ought to be valued or neglected. But indeed, I did not 
imagine these little Considerations and Coqueteries could have 
the ill Consequence as I find they have by the following Letters 
of my Correspondents, where it seems Beauty is thrown into 
the Accompt, in Matters of Sale, to those who receive no 
Favour from the Charmers. 

'Mr. Spectator, June 4. 

After I have assured you I am in every respect one of the 
Handsomest young Girls about Town—, I need be particular 
in nothing but the Make of my Face, which has the Msfortune 
to be exactly Oval. This I take to proceed from a Temper 
that naturally inclines me both to speak and to hear. 



No. 87. Saturday, June 9, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 271 

With this Account you may wonder how I can have the 
Vanity to offer my self as a Candidate, which I now do. to a 
Society, where the Spectator and Hecatissa have been admitted 
with so much Applause. I don't want to be put in mind how 
very Defective I am in every thing that is Ugly; I am too 
sensible of my own Unworthiness in this Particular, and 
therefore I only propose my self as a Foil to the Club. 

You see how honest I have been to confess all my Imperfec¬ 
tions, which is a great deal to come from a Woman, and what, 
I hope, you will encourage with the Favour of your Interest. 

There can be no Objection made on the side of the Matchless 
Hecatissa, since it is certain I shall be in no danger of giving 
her the least occasion of Jealousie: And then, a Joint-Stool 
in the very lowest Place at the Tabic, is all the Honour that 
is coveted by 

Your most Humble 

and Obedient Servant, 

Rosalinda. 

P.S. I have sacrificed my Necklace to put into the Publick 
Lottery against the Common Enemy. And last Saturday, 
about Three a Clock in the Afternoon, I began to Patch in¬ 
differently on both sides of my Face.' 

'Mr. Spectator, London, June 7, 1711. 

Upon reading your late Dissertation concerning Idols, I 
cannot but complain to you that there are, in six or seven 
Places of this City, Coffee-houses kept by Persons of that 
Sisterhood. These Idols sit and receive all day long the 
Adoration of the Youth within such and such Districts: I know, 
in particular. Goods are not entered as they ought to be at the 
Custom-house, nor Law-Reports perused at the Temple; by 
reason of one Beauty who detains the young Merchants too 
long near Change, and another Fair one, who keeps the Students 
at her House when they should be at Study. It would be 
worth your while to see how the Idolaters alternately offer 
Incense to their Idols, and what Heart-burnings arise in those 
who wait for their Turn to receive kind Aspects from those 
little Thrones, which all the Company, but these Lovers, call 
the Bars. I saw a Gentleman turn as pale as Ashes, because 
an Idol turned the Sugar in a Tea-Dish for his Rival, and care¬ 
lessly called the Boy to serve him, with a Sirrah! Why don't 
you give the Gentleman the Box to please himself? Certain it is, 
that a very hopeful young Man was taken with Leads in his 
Pockets below Bridge, where he intended to drown himself, 



272 THE SPECTATOR No. 87. Saturday, June 9, 1711 

because his Idol would wash the Dish in which she had just 
before drank Tea, before she would let him use it. 

I am, Sir, a Person past being Amorous, and do not give 
this Information out of Envy or Jealousy, but I am a real 
Sufferer by it. These Lovers take any thing for Tea and 
Coffee; I saw one Yesterday surfeit to make his Court; and all 
his Rivals, at the same time, loud in the Commendation of 
Liquors that went against every body in the Room that was 
not in Love. While these young Fellows resign their Stomachs 
with their Hearts, and drink at the Idol in this manner, we who 
come to do Business, or talk Politicks, are utterly Poisoned: 
They have also Drams for those who are more enamoured than 
ordinary; and it is very common for such as are too low in 
Constitution to Ogle the Idoi upon the strength of Tea, to 
fluster themselves with warmer Liquors: Thus all Pretenders 
advance, as fast as they can, to a Feaver or a Diabetes. I must 
repeat to you, that I do not look with an Evil Eye upon the 
Profit of the Idols, or the Diversions of the Lovers; what I hope 
from this Remonstrance, is only that we plain People may not 
be served as if we were Idolaters; but that from the time of 
Publishing this in your Paper, the Idols would mix Ratsbane 
only for their Admirers, and take more care of us who don't 
Love them. I am, 

Sir, 

Yours, 

R T. T.’ 

No. 88. 

[STEELE.] Monday, June ii. 

Quid domini facient, audent cum talia fures? —Virg. 

'Mr. Spectator, May 30, 1711. 

I HAVE no small Value for your Endeavours to lay before the 
World what may escape their Observation, and yet highly 
conduces to their Service. You have, I think, succeeded very 
well on many Subjects; and seem to have been conversant in 
very different Scenes of Life. But in the Considerations of 
Mankind, as a Spectator, you should not omit Circumstances 
which relate to the inferiour Part of the World, any more than 
those which concern the greater. There is one thing in par¬ 
ticular which I wonder you have not touched upon, and that is, 
the general Corruption of Manners in the Servants of Great 
Britain. I am a Man that have travelled and seen many 
Nations, but have for seven Years last past resided constantly 



No. 88. Monday, June 11, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 273 

in London or within twenty Miles of it: In this Time I have con¬ 
tracted a numerous Acquaintance among the best Sort of 
People, and have hardly found one of them happy in their 
Servants. This is Matter of great Astonishment to Foreigners, 
and all such as have visited foreign Countries; especially since 
we cannot but observe, That there is no Part of the World 
where Servants have those Privileges and Advantages as in 
England: They have no where else such plentiful Diet, large 
Wages, or indulgent Liberty: There is no Place wherein they 
labour less, and yet where they are so little respectful, more 
wasteful, more negligent, or where they so frequently change 
their Masters. To this I attribute, in a great Measure, the 
frequent Robberies and Losses which we suffer on the high 
Road and in our own Houses. That indeed which gives me 
the present Thought of this Kind, is, that a careless Groom of 
mine has spoiled me the prettiest Pad in the World, with only 
riding him ten Miles; and 1 assure you, if I were to make a 
Register of all the Horses I have known thus abused by Negli¬ 
gence of Servants, the Number would mount a Regiment. I 
wish you would give us your Observations, that we may know 
how to treat these Rogues, or that we Masters may enter into 
Measures to reform them. Pray give us a Speculation in 
general about Servants, and you make me 

Yours, 

Pray do not omit the 

Mention of Grooms in Philo-Britannicus. 

particular.' 

This honest Gentleman, who is so desirous that I should 
write a Satyr upon Grooms, has a great deal of Reason for his 
Resentment; and I know no Evil which touches all Mankind 
so much, as this of the Misbehaviour of Servants. 

The Complaint of this Letter runs wholly upon Men- 
Servants; and I can attribute the Licentiousness which has 
at present prevailed among them, to nothing but what an 
hundred before me have ascribed it to, The Custom of giving 
Board-Wages: This one Instance of false Oeconomy, is suf¬ 
ficient to debauch the whole Nation of Servants, and makes 
them as it were but for some Part of their Time in that Quality. 
They are either attending in Places where they meet and run 
into Clubs, or else, if they wait at Taverns, they eat after their 
Masters, and reserve their Wages for other Occasions. From 
hence it arises, That they are but in a lower Degree what their 
Masters themselves are; and usually affect an Imitation of their 
Manners: And you have in Liveries Beaux, Fops, and Cox¬ 
combs, in as high Perfection, as among People that keep^ 



274 THE SPECTATOR No. SS. Monday, June ii, lyii 

Equipages. It is a common Humour among the Retinue of 
People of Quality, when they are in their Revels, that is when 
they are out of their Masters' Sight, to assume in an humourous 
Way the Names and Titles of those whose Liveries they wear. 
By which Means Characters and Distinctions become so 
familiar to them, that it is to this, among other Causes, one 
may impute a certain Insolence among our Servants, that they 
take no Notice of any Gentlemen though they know him ever 
so well, except he is an Acquaintance of their Masters. 

My Obscurity and Taciturnity leave me at Liberty, without 
Scandal, to dine, if I think fit, at a common Ordinary, in the 
meanest as well as the mo.st sumptuous House of Entertain¬ 
ment. Falling in the other Day at a Victualling-house near the 
House of Peers, I heard the Maid come down and tell the Land¬ 
lady at the Bar, That my Lord Bishop swore he would throw 
her out at Window if she did not bring up more Mild-beer, 
and that my Lord Duke would have a double Mug of Purle. 
My Surprise was encrcased, in hearing loud and rustick Voices 
speak and answer to each other upon the publick Affairs, by 
the Names of the most Illustrious of our Nobility; till of a 
sudden one came running in, and cryed the House was rising. 
Down came all the Company together, and away: The Ale¬ 
house was immediately filled with Clamour, and scoring one 
Mug to the Marquis of such a Place, Oyl and Vinegar to such 
an Earl, tlirce Quarts to my new Lord for wetting his Title, 
and so forth. It is a thing too notorious to mention the Crowds 
of Servants, and their Insolence, near the Courts of Justice, and 
the Stairs towards the supreme Assembly; where there is an 
universal Mockery of all Order, such riotous Clamour and 
licentious Confusion, that one would think the whole Nation 
lived in Jest, and there were no such thing as Rule and Dis¬ 
tinction among us. 

The next Place of Resort, wherein the servile World are let 
loose, is at the Entrance of Hide-Park, while the Gentry are at 
the Ring. Hither People bring their Lacqueys out of State, 
and here it is that all they say at their Tables and act in their 
Houses is communicated to the whole Town. There are Men 
of Wit in all Conditions of Life; and mixing with these People 
at their Diversions, I have heard Coquets and Prudes as well 
rallied, and Insolence and Pride exposed, (allowing for their 
want of Education) with as much Humour and good Sense, as 
in the politest Companies. It is a general Observation, That 
all Dependants run in some Measure into the Manners and 
Behaviour of those whom they serve: You shall frequently meet 
with Lovers and Men of Intrigue among the Lacqueys, as well 
as at White's or in the Side-Boxes, I remember some Years 



No. SB. Monday, June 11, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 275 

ago an Instance of this Kind. A Footman to a Captain of the 
Guard used frequently, when his Master was out of the Way, to 
carry on Amours and make Assignations in his Master's Cloaths. 
The Fellow had a very good Person, and there are very many 
Women that think no further than the Outside of a Gentleman; 
besides which, he was almost as learned a Man as the Collonel 
himself. I say, thus qualified, the Fellow could scrawl Billets 
doux so well, and furnish a Conversation on the common 
Topicks, that he had, as they call it, a great deal of good 
Business on his Hands. It happened one Day, that coming 
down a Tavern-stairs in his Master's fine Guard-Coat, with a 
well-dressed Woman masked, he met the Collonel coming up 
with other Company; but with a ready Assurance he quitted his 
Lady, came up to him, and said. Sir, I know you have too much 
Respect for your self to cane me in this honourable Habit: But you 
see there is a Lady in the Case, and I hope on that Score also you 
will put off your Anger till I have told you all another Time. 
After a little Pause the Q^llonel cleared up his Countenance, 
and with an Air of Familiarity whispered his Man apart. 
Sirrah, bring the Lady with you to ash Pardon for you: then 
aloud. Look to it Will. / 'll never forgive you else. The Fellow 
went back to his Mistress, and telling her with a loud Voice 
and an Oath, That was the honestest Fellow in the World, 
conveyed her to an Hackney-Coach. 

But the many Irregularities committed by Servants in the 
Places above-mentioned, as well as in the Theatres, of wliich 
Masters are generally the Occasions, are too various not to 
need being resumed on another Occasion. R 


No. 89. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, June 12. 

. . . Petite hinc puerique senesque 

Finem animo certum, rniserisque viatica canis. 

Cras hoc fiet. Idem eras fiet. Quid? quasi magnum 
Nemfe diem donas. Sed cum lux altera venit, 

Jam eras hesternum consumpsimus; ecce aliud eras 
Egerit hos annos, (S- semper paulum erit ultra. 

Nam quamvis prope te, quamvis temone sub uno 
Vertentem sese frustra sectabere canthum .—Per. 

As my Correspondents upon the Subject of Love are very 
numerous, it is my Design, if possible, to range them under 
several Heads, and address my self to them at different Times. 
The first Branch of them, to whose Service I shall dedicate this 
Paper, are those that have to do with Women of dilatory 
Tempers, who are for spinning out the Time of Courtship to aa 



276 THE SPECTATOR No. 89. Tuesday, June 12, 1711 

immoderate Length, without being able either to close with 
their Lovers, or to dismiss them. I have many Letters by me 
filled with Complaints against this sort of Women. In one 
of them no less a Man than a Brother of the Coiff tells me, that 
he began his Suit Vicessimo nono Caroli secundi, before he had 
been a Twelve-month at the Temple] that he prosecuted it for 
many Years after he was called to the Bar; that at present he 
is a Serjeant at Law; and notwithstanding he hoped that 
Matters would have been long since brought to an Issue, the 
Fair one still demurrs. I am so well pleased with this Gentle¬ 
man’s Phrase, that I shall distinguish this Sect of Women by 
the Title of Demurrers. I find by another Letter from one who 
calls himself Thirsis, that his Mistress has been demurring 
above these seven Years. But among all my Plaintiffs of this 
Nature, I most pity the unfortunate Philander, a Man of con¬ 
stant Passion and plentiful Fortune, who sets forth that the 
timorous and irresolute Sylvia has demurred till she is past 
Cliild-bearing. Strephon appears by his Letter to be a very 
cholerick Lover, and irrevocably smitten with one that demurrs 
out of Self-interest. He tells me with great Passion that she 
has bubbled him out of his Youth; that she drilled him on to 
five and fifty, and that he verily believes she will drop him in 
his old Age if she can find her Account in another. I shall 
conclude this Narrative with a Letter from honest Sam. Hope- 
well, a very pleasant Fellow, who it seems has at last married 
a Demurrer’. I must only premise, that Sam. who is a very 
good Bottle-Companion, has been the Diversion of his Friends, 
upon account of his Passion, ever since the Year One thousand 
Six hundred and Eighty one. 

‘ Dear Sir, 

You know very well my Passion for Mrs. Martha, and what 
a Dance she has led me: She took me out at the Age of Two 
and Twenty, and dodged with me above Thirty Years. I have 
loved her till she is grown as grey as a Cat, and am with much 
ado become the Master of her Person, such as it is at present. 
She is however in my Eye a very charming old Woman. We 
often lament that we did not marry sooner, but she has no 
Body to blame for it but her self: You know very well that she 
would never think of me whilst she had a Tooth in her Head. 
I have put the Date of my Passion {Anno Amoris Trigesimo 
primo) instead of a Posy, on my Wedding-Ring. I expect 
you should send me a congratulatory Letter, or, if you please, 
an Epithalamium upon this Occasion. 

Mrs, Martha's and Yours eternally, 

Sam. Hopewell.* 



No. 89. Tuesday, June 12, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 277 

In order to banish an Evil out of the World, that does not 
only produce great Uneasiness to private Persons, but has also 
a very bad Influence on the Publick, I shall endeavour to 
shew the Folly of Demurrage from two or three Reflections, 
which I earnestly recommend to the Thoughts of my fair 
Readers. 

First of all I would have them seriously think on the Shortness 
of their Time. Life is not long enough for a Coquet to play 
all her Tricks in. A timorous Woman drops into her Grave 
before she has done deliberating. Were the Age of Man the 
same that it was before the Flood, a Lady might sacrifice half 
a Century to a Scruple, and be two or three Ages in demurring. 
Had she Nine Hundred Years good, she might hold out to the 
Conversion of the Jews before she thought fit to be prevailed 
upon. But alas! she ought to play her Part in haste, when she 
considers that she is suddenly to quit the Stage, and make 
Room for others. 

In the second Place, I would desire my female Readers to 
consider, that as the Term of Life is short, that of Beauty is 
much shorter. The finest Skin wrinkles in a few Years, and 
loses the Strength of its Colouring so soon, that we have 
scarce Time to admire it. I miglit embellish this Subject 
with Roses and Rain-bows, and several other ingenious Con¬ 
ceits, which I may possibly reserve for another Opportunity. 

There is a third Consideration which I would likewise recom¬ 
mend to a Demurrer, and that is the great Danger of her falling 
in Love when she is about Three-score, if she cannot satisfy 
her Doubts and Scruples before that Time. There is a kind 
of latter Spring, that sometimes gets into the Blood of an old 
Woman, and turns her into a very odd sort of an Animal. I 
would therefore have the Demurrer consider what a strange 
Figure she will make, if she chances to get over all Difficulties, 
and comes to a final Resolution in that unseasonable Part of 
her Life. 

I would not however be understood, by any thing I have 
here said, to discourage that natural Modesty in the Sex, 
which renders a Retreat from the first Approaches of a Lover 
both fashionable and graceful: All that 1 intend, is, to advise 
them, when they are prompted by Reason and Inclination, 
to demurr only out of Form, and so far as Decency requires. 
A virtuous Woman should reject the first Offer of Marriage, 
as a good Man does that of a Bishoprick; but I would advise 
neither the one nor the other to persist in refusing what 
they secretly approve. I would in this Particular propose the 
Example of Eve to all her Daughters, as Milton has repre¬ 
sented her in the following Passage, which I cannot forbear 



278 THE SPECTATOR No. 89, Tuesday, June 12, 1711 

transcribing entire, tho' only the twelve last Lines are to my 
present Purpose. 

The Rib he form'd and fashion'd with his Hands: 

Under his forming Hands a Creature grew. 

Manlike, but diff’rent Sex, so lovely fair. 

That what seem'd fair in all the World, seem'd now 
Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain’d 
And in her Looks, which from that Time infus’d 
Sweetness into my Heart unfelt before. 

And into all things from her Aire inspir'd 
The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight. 

She disappear’d, and left me dark; I wak’d 
To find her, or for ever to deplore 
Her Loss, and other Pleasures all abjure: 

When out of Hope, behold her, not far off. 

Such as I saw her in my Dream, adorn'd 
With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow 
To make her amiable. On she came, 

Led by her heav’nly Maker, though unseen. 

And guided by his Voice, nor uninform’d 
Of nuptial Sanctity and marriage Rites: 

Grace was in all her Steps, Heav'n in her Eye. 

In every Gesture Dignity and Love. 

I overjoy’d could not forbear aloud. 

This Turn hath made Amends: thou hast fulfill’d 
Thy Words, Creator bounteous and benign, 

Giver of all things fair, but fairest this 

Of all thy Gifts, nor enviest. I now see 

Bone of my Bone, Flesh of my Flesh, my Self . , , 

She heard me thus, and tho’ divinely brought. 

Yet Innocence and Virgin Modesty, 

Her Virtue and the Conscience of her Worth, 

That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won. 

Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retir’d. 

The more desirable, or to say all. 

Nature her self, though pure of sinful Thought, 

Wrought in her so, that seeing me she turn'd; 

I follow'd her: She what was Honour knew. 

And with obsequious Majesty approv'd 

My pleaded Reason. To the nuptial Bow'r 

I led her blushing like the Morn. ... L 


No. 90. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, June 13. 

. . . Magnus sine viribus ignis 
Incassum furit. . . .—Virg. 

There is not, in my Opinion, a Consideration more efiectual 
to extinguish inordinate Desires in the Soul of Man, than the 
Notions of Plato and his Followers upon that Subject. They 



No. go. Wednesday, June 1^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 279 

tell us, that every Passion which has been contracted by the 
Soul during her Residence in the Body, remains with her in her 
separate State; and that the Soul, in the Body or out of the 
Body, differs no more than the Man does from himself when he 
is in his House or in open Air. When therefore the obscene 
Passions in particular have once taken Root and spread them¬ 
selves in the Soul, they cleave to her inseparably, and remain 
in her for ever after the Body is cast off and thrown aside. As 
an Argument to confirm this their Doctrine they observe, that 
a lewd Youth who goes on in a continued Course of Voluptu¬ 
ousness, advances by Degrees into a libidinous old Man; and 
that the Passion survives in the Mind when it is altogether 
dead in the Body; nay, that the Desire grows more violent, 
and (like all other Habits) gathers Strength by Age, at the 
same Time that it has no Power of executing its own Purposes. 
If, they say, the Soul is the most subject to these Passions at a 
Time when it has the least Instigations from the Body, we may 
well suppose she will still retain them when she is entirely 
divested of it. The very Substance of the Soul is festered with 
them; the Gangrene is gone too far to be ever cured: the 
Inflammation will rage to all Eternity. 

In this therefore (say the Plaionists) consists the Punish¬ 
ment of a voluptuous Man after Death: He is tormented with 
Desires which it is impossible for him to gratify, sollicited by a 
Passion that has neither Objects nor Organs adapted to it: 
He lives in a State of invincible Desire and Impotence, and 
always burns in the Pursuit of what he always despairs to 
possess. It is for this Reason (says Plato) that the Souls of the 
Dead appear frequently in Coemiteries, and hover about the 
Places where their Bodies are buried, as still hankering after 
their old brutal Pleasures, and desiring again to enter the Body 
that gave them an Opportunity of fulfilling them. 

Some of our most eminent Divines have made use of this 
Platonick Notion, so far as it regards the Subsistence of our 
Passions after Death, with great Beauty and Strength of Reason. 
Plato indeed carries the Thought very far, when he grafts upon 
it his Opinion of Ghosts appearing in Places of Burial; though, 

I must confess, if one did believe that the departed Souls of 
Men and Women wandered up and down these lower Regions, 
and entertained themselves with the Sight of their Species, one 
could not devise a more proper Hell for an impure Spiidt, than 
that which Plato has touched upon. 

The Ancients seem to have drawn such a State of Torments' 
in the Description of Tantalus, who was punished with the 
Rage of an eternal Thirst, and set up to the Chin in Water that 
fled from his Lips whenever he attempted to drink it. - 

I—K 



28o the spectator No. go. Wednesday, June lyii 

Virgil, who has cast the whole System of Platonick Philo¬ 
sophy, so far as it relates to the Soul of Man, into beautiful 
Allegories; in the sixth Book of his Aeneid gives us the Punish¬ 
ment of a Voluptuary after Death, not unlike that which we 
are here speaking of. 

. . . Lucent genialibus altis 
A urea fulcra toris, epulaeque ante ora faratae 
Regifico luxu. Furiarum maxima juxta 
Accubat, <S* manibus prohibet contingere mensas; 

Exurgitque facent attollens, atque intonat ore. 

They lie below on Golden Beds display’d, 

A nd genial Feasts with regal Pomp are made, 

The Queen of Furies by their Side is set. 

And snatches from their Mouths th’ untasted Meat; 

Which if they touch, her hissing Snakes she rears. 

Tossing her Torch, and Thund’ring in their Ears. —Dryd. 

That I may a little alleviate the Severity of this my Specula¬ 
tion (which otherwise may lose me several of my polite Readers) 
I shall translate a Story that has been quoted upon another 
Occasion by one of the most learned Men of the present Age, 
as I find it in the Original. The Reader will see it is not foreign 
to my present Subject, and I dare say will think it a lively 
Representation of a Person lying under the Torments of such a 
Kind of Tantalism, or Platonick Hell, as that which we have 
now under Consideration. Monsieur Pontignan speaking of a 
Love-Adventure that happened to him in the Country, gives 
the following account of it. 

‘When I was in the Country last Summer, I was often in 
Company with a couple of charming Women who had all the 
Wit and Beauty one could desire in Female Companions, with 
a Dash of Coquetry, that from time to time gave me a great 
many agreeable Torments. I was, after my Way, in love with 
both of them, and had such frequent Opportunities of pleading 
my Passion to them when they were asunder, that I had reason 
to hope for particular Favours from each of them. As I was 
walking one Evening in my Chamber with nothing about me 
but my Night-Gown, they both came into my Room and told 
me, they had a very pleasant Trick to put upon a Gentleman 
that was in the same House, provided I would bear a Part in 
it. Upon this they told me such a plausible Story, that I 
laughed at their Contrivance, and agreed to do whatever they 
should require of me: They immediately began to swaddle me 
up in my Night-Gown with'long Pieces of Linnen, which they 
folded about me till they had wrapt me in above an hundred 
Yards of Swathe: My Arms were pressed to my Sides, and my 



No. go. Wednesday, June 1-^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 281 

Legs closed together by so many Wrappers one over another, 
that I looked like an Aegyptian Mummy. As I stood bolt up¬ 
right upon one End in this antique Figure, one of the Ladies 
burst out a Laughing, “And now, Pontignan” says she, “we 
intend to perform the Promise that we find you have extorted 
from each of us. You have often asked the Favour of us, and 
I dare say you are a better bred Cavalier than to refuse to go 
to Bed to Ladies that desire it of you.” After having stood a 
Fit of Laughter, I begg'd them to uncase me, and do with me 
what they pleased. “No, no,” say they, “we like you very 
well as you are ”; and upon that ordered me to be carried to one 
of their Houses, and put to Bed in all my Swaddles. The 
Room was lighted up on all Sides; and I was laid very decently 
between a Pair of Sheets, with my Head (which was indeed 
the only Part I could move) upon a very high Pillow: This was 
no sooner done, but my two Female Friends came into Bed 
to me in their finest Night-Clothes. You may easily guess at 
the Condition of a Man, that saw a couple of the most beautiful 
Women in the World undrcst and abed with him, without being 
able to stir Hand or Foot, I begged them to release me, and 
struggled all I could to get loose; which I did with so much 
Violence, that about Midnight they both leaped out of the Bed 
crying out they were undone: But seeing me safe they took 
their Posts again, and renewed their Raillery. Finding all 
my Prayers and Endeavours were lost, I compos'd my self 
as well as I could; and told them, that if they would not unbind 
me, 1 would fall asleep between them, and by that means dis¬ 
grace them for ever: But alas! this was impossible; could I 
have been disposed to it, they would have prevented me by 
several little ill-natured Caresses and Endearments which they 
bestow’d upon me. As much devoted as I am to Womankind, 
I would not pass such another Night to be Master of the whole 
Sex. My Reader will doubtless be curious to know what be¬ 
came of me the next Morning: Why truly my Bed-fellows left 
me about an Hour before Day, and told me if I would be good 
and lie still, they would send somebody to take me up as soon 
as it was Time for me to rise: Accordingly about Nine a Clock 
in the Morning an old Woman came to unswathe me. I bore 
all this very patiently, being resolved to take my Revenge of 
my Tormentors, and to keep no Measures with them as soon 
as I was at Liberty; but upon asking my old Woman what was 
bec(jme of the two Ladies, she told me she believ'd they were 
by that Time within Sight of Paris, for that they went away in 
a Coach and six, before five a Clock in the morning.’ L 



282 THE SPECTATOR No. 91. Thursday, June 14, 1711 
No. 91. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, June 14. 

In furias ignemque ruunt. Amor omnibus idem. —Virg. 

Tho' the Subject I am now going upon would be much more 
properly the Foundation of a Comedy, I cannot forbear in¬ 
serting the Circumstances which pleased me in the Account a 
young Lady gave me of the Loves of a Family in Town, which 
shall be nameless; or rather for the better Sound, and Eldvation 
of the History, instead of Mr. and Mrs. such a one, I shall call 
them by feigned Names. Without further Preface, you are to 
know that within the Liberties of the City of Westminster lives 
the Lady Honoria, a Widow about the Age of Forty, of a 
healthy Constitution, gay Temper, and elegant Per.son. She 
dresses a little too much like a Girl, affects a Childish Fondness 
in the Tone of her Voice, sometimes a pretty Sullenness in the 
leaning of her Head, and now and then a Down-cast of her Eyes 
on her Fan: Neither her Imagination nor her Health would ever 
give her to know that she is turned of Twenty; but that in the 
midst of these pretty Softnesses, and Airs of Delicacy and 
Attraction, she has a tall Daughter within a Fortnight of 
Fifteen, who impertinently comes into the Room, and towers 
so much towards Woman, that her Mother is always checked 
by her Presence, and every Charm of Honoria droops at the 
Entrance of Flavia. The agreeable Flavia would be what she 
is not, as well as her Mother Honoria; but all their Beholders 
are more partial to an Affectation of what a Person is growing 
up to, than of what has been already enjoyed, and is gone for 
ever. It is therefore allowed to Flavia to look forward, but not 
to Honoria to look back. Flavia is no way dependant on her 
Mother, with Relation to her Fortune, for which Reason they 
live almost upon an Equality in Conversation; and as Honoria 
has given Flavia to understand, that it is ill-bred to be always 
calling Mother, Flavia is as well pleased never to be called 
Child. It happens, by this means, that these Ladies are gener¬ 
ally Rivals in all Places where they appear; and the Words 
Mother and Daughter never pass between them, but out of 
Spite. Flavia one Night at a Play observing Honoria draw the 
Eyes of several in the Pit, called to a Lady who sat by her, and 
bid her ask her Mother to lend her her Snuff-Box for one 
Moment. Another time, when a Lover of Honoria was on his 
Knees beseeching the Favour to Kiss her Hand, Flavia rush¬ 
ing into the Room kneeled down by him and asked Blessing. 
Several of these Contradictory Acts of Duty have raised be¬ 
tween them such a Coldness, that they generally converse 



No. gi. Thursday, June 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 283 

when they are in mixed Company, by way of Talking at one 
another, and not to one another. Honoria is ever complaining 
of a certain Sufficiency in the young women of this Age, who 
assume to themselves an Authority of carrying all things 
before them, as if they were Possessors of the Esteem of Man¬ 
kind; and all, who were but a Year before them in the World, 
were neglected or deceased. Flavia, upon such a Provocation, 
is sure to observe that there are People who can resign nothing, 
and know not how to give up what they know they cannot hold; 
that there are those who will not allow Youth their Follies, 
not because they are themselves past them, but because they 
love to continue in them. These Beauties rival each other on 
all Occasions, not that they have always had the same Lovers, 
but each has kept up a Vanity to shew the other the Charms 
of her Lover. Dick Crastin and Tom Tulip, among many 
others, have of late been Pretenders in this Family; Dick to 
Honoria, Tom to Flavia. Dick is the only surviving Beau of 
the last Age, and Tom almost the only one that keeps up that 
Order of Men in this. 

I wish I could repeat the little Circumstances of a Conversa¬ 
tion of the four Lovers with the Spirit in which the young Lady, 
I had my Account from, represented it at a Visit where I had 
the Honour to be present; but it seems Dick Crastin the 
Admirer of Honoria, and Tom Tulip the Pretender to Flavia, 
were purposely admitted together by the Ladies; that each 
might shew the other that her Lover had the Superiority in the 
Accomplishments of that sort of Creature, whom the sillier 
part of Women call a Fine Gentleman. As this Age has a 
much more gross Taste in Courtship, as well as in everything 
else, than the last had, these Gentlemen are Instances of it in 
their different manner of Application. Tulip is ever making 
Allusions to the Vigour of his Person, the sinewy Force of his 
Make, while Crastin professes a wary Observation of the Turns 
of his Mistress’s Mind. Tulip gives himself the Air of a resist¬ 
less Ravisher, Crastin practises that of a skilful Lover. Poetry 
is the inseparable Property of every Man in Love; and as Men 
of Wit write Verses on those Occasions, the rest of the World 
repeat the Verses of others. These Servants of the Ladies 
were used to imitate their Manner of Conversation; and allude 
to one another, rather than interchange discourse in what 
they said when they met. Tulip, the other day, seized 
his Mistress's Hand, and repeated out of Ovid's Art of 
Love, 

'Tis I can in soft Battels pass the Night, 

Yet rise next Morning Vigorous for the Fight, 

Fresh as the Day, and active as the Light. 




284 THE SPECTATOR No. gi. Thursday, June lyii 

Upon hearing this, Crastin, with an Air of-Deference, played 
Honoria’s Fan, and repeated, 

Sidlcy has that prevailing gentle Art, 

That can, with a resistless Charm, impart 
The loosest Wishes to the chastest Heart: 

Raise such a Conflict, kindle such a Fire, 

Between declining Virtue and Desire, 

'Till the poor vanquish’d Maid dissolves away 
In Dreams all Night, in Sighs and Tears all Day. 

When Crastin had uttered these Verses, with a Tenderness 
which at once spoke Passion and Respect, Honoria cast a 
Triumphant Glance at Flavia, as exulting in the Elegance of 
Crastin's Courtship, and upbraiding her with the Homeliness 
of Tulip's. Tulip understood the Reproach, and in return 
began to applaud the Wisdom of old amorous Gentlemen, who 
turned their Mistress’s Imagination, as far as possible, from 
what they had long themselves forgot, and ended his Dis¬ 
course with a sly Commendation of the Doctrine of Platonick 
Love: at the same time he ran over, with a laughing Eye, 
Crastin's thin Legs, meagre Looks and spare Body. The old 
Gentleman immediately left the Room with some Disorder, 
and the Conversation fell upon untimely Passion, after Love, 
and unseasonable Youth. Tulip sung, danced, moved before 
the Glass, led his Mistress half a Minuet, humm’d 
Celia the Fair, in the Bloom of fifteen: 
when there came a Servant with a Letter to him, which was as 
follows. 

' Sir, 

I Understand very well what you meant by your Mention of 
Platonick Love. I shall be glad to meet you immediately in 
Hide-Park, or behind Montague-House, or attend you to Barn 
Elmes, or any other fashionable Place that's fit for a Gentle¬ 
man to dye in, that you shall appoint for. 

Sir, 

Your most Humble Servant, 

Richard Crastin.* 

Tulip's Colour changed at the reading of this Epistle; for 
which Reason his Mistress snatched it to read the Contents. 
While she was doing so Tulip went away, and the Ladies now 
agreeing in a Common Calamity, bewailed together the Danger 
of their Lovers. They immediately undressed to go out, and 
took Hackneys to prevent Mischief; but, after alarming all 
Parts of the Town, Crastin was found by his Widow in his 



No.gi, Thursday, June lyii THE SPECTATOR 285 

Pumps at Hide-Park, which Appointment Tulip never kept, 
but made his Escape into the Country. Flavia tears her 
Hair for his Inglorious Safety, curses and despises her Charmer, 
is fallen in Love with Crastin: Which is the first Part of the 
History of the Rival Mother. R 


No. 92. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, June 15. 

. . . Convivae prope dissentire videntur, 

Poscentes vario multum diversa palato. 

Quid dem? Quid non dem? . . .—Hor. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

Your Paper is a Part of my Tea-Equipage; and my Servant 
knows my Humour so well, that calling for my Breakfast this 
Morning (it being past my usual Hour) she answered, the 
Spectator was not yet come in; but that the Tea-Kettle 
boiled, and she expected it every Moment. Having thus in 
Part signified to you the Esteem and Veneration which I have 
for you, I must put you in Mind of the Catalogue of Books 
which you have promised to recommend to our Sex: For I have 
deferred furnisliing my Closet with Authors, till I receive your 
Advice in this Particular; being your daily Disciple and humble 
Servant, 

Leonora: 

In answer to my fair Disciple, whom I am very proud of, I 
must acquaint her and the rest of my Readers, that since I 
have called out for Help in my Catalogue of a Lady’s Library, 

I have received many Letters upon that Head; some of which 
I shall give an Account of. 

In the first Class I shall take Notice of those which come to 
me from eminent Booksellers, who every one of them mention 
with Respect the Authors they have printed; and consequently 
have an Eye to their own Advantage more than to that of the 
Ladies. One tells me, that he thinks it absolutely necessary 
for Women to have true Notions of Right and Equity, and 
that therefore they cannot peruse a better Book than Dalton's 
Country Justice. Anotl^^r thinks they cannot be without The 
Compleat Jockey. A third observing the Curiosity and Desire 
of prying into Secrets, which he tells me is natural to the fair 
Sex, is of Opinion this Female Inclination, if well directed, 
might turn very much to their Advantage, and therefore 
recommends to me Mr. Mede upon the Revelations. A fourth. 



286 THE SPECTATOR No. 92. Friday, June 15, 1711 

lays it down as an unquestioned Truth, that a Lady cannot 
be thoroughly accomplished who has not read The Secret 
Treaties and Negotiations of the Marshal D'Estrades. Mr. 
Jacob Tonson, Junr. is of Opinion, that Bayle’s Dictionary 
might be of very great Use to the Ladies, in order to make 
them general Scholars. Another, whose Name I have for¬ 
gotten, thinks it highly pro7)er that every Woman with Child 
should read Mr. Walls History of Infant Baptism'. As another 
is very importunate with me, to recommend to all my Female 
Readers, The finishing Stroke: Being a Vindication of the 
Patriarchal Scheme, &c. 

In the second Class I shall mention Books which are recom¬ 
mended by Husbands, if I may believe the Writers of them. 
Whether or no they are real Husbands or personated ones I 
cannot tell, but the Books they recommend are as follow. A 
Paraphrase on the History of Susanna. Rules to keep Lent. 
The Christian's Overthrow prevented. A Dissuasive from the 
Play-House. The Virtues of Camphire, with Directions to make 
Camp hire Tea. The Pleasures of a Country Life. The Govern¬ 
ment of the Tongue. A Letter dated from Cheapside desires 
me that I would advise all young Wives to make themselves 
Mistresses of Wingate's Arithmetick, and concludes with a 
Postscript, that he hopes I will not forget The Countess of 
Kent's Receipts. 

I may reckon the Ladies themselves as a third Class among 
these my Correspondents and Privy-Counsellors. In a Letter 
from one of them, I am advised to place Pharamond at the 
Head of my Catalogue, and, if I think proper, to give the second 
place to Cassandra. Coquetilla begs me not to think of nailing 
Women upon their Knees with Manuals of Devotion, nor of 
scorching their Faces with Books of Housewifery. Florella 
desires to know if there are any Books written against Prudes, 
and intreates me, if there are, to give them a Place in my 
Library. Plays of all Sorts have their several Advocates: 
All for Love is mentioned in above fifteen Letters; Sophonisba, 
or Hannibal's Overthrow, in a Dozen; the Innocent Adultery is 
likewise highly approved of: Mithridates King of Pontus has 
many Friends; Alexander the Great and Aurenzebe have the 
same Number of Voices; but Theodosius, or the Force of Love, 
carries it from all the rest. 

1 should, in the last Place, mention |pch Books as have been 
proposed by Men of Learning, and those who appear competent 
Judges of this Matter; and must here take Occasion to thank 
A. B., whoever it is that conceals himself under those two 
Letters, for his Advice upon this Subject; But as I find the 
Work I have undertaken to be very difficult, I shall defer the 



No. 92. Friday, June 15, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 287 

executing of it till I am further acquainted with the Thoughts 
of my judicious Contemporaries, and have Time to examine 
the several Books they offer to me; being resolved, in an Affair 
of this Moment, to proceed with the greatest Caution. 

In the mean while, as I have taken the Ladies under my 
particular Care, I shall make it my Business to find out in the 
best Authors ancient and modern such Passages as may be for 
their use, and endeavour to accommodate them as well as I 
can to their Taste; not questioning but the valuable Part of 
the Sex will easily pardon me, if from Time to Time 1 laugh 
at those little Vanities and Follies which appear in the Be¬ 
haviour of some of them, and which are more proper for 
Ridicule than a serious Censure. Most Books being calculated 
for Male Readers, and generally written with an Eye to Men 
of Learning, makes a Work of this Nature the more necessary; 
besides, I am the more encouraged, because I flatter my self 
that I see the Sex daily improving by these my Speculations. 
My fair Readers are already deeper Scholars than the Beaus: 
I could name some of them who talk much better than several 
Gentlemen that make a Figure at Will's; and as I frequently 
receive Letters from the fine Ladies, and pretty Fellows, I can¬ 
not but observe that the former are superior to the others not 
only in the Sense but in the Spelling. This cannot but have a 
good Effect upon the female World, and keep them from being 
charmed by those empty Coxcombs that have hitherto been 
admired among the Women, tho' laugh'd at among the Men. 

I am credibly informed that Tom Tattle passes for an im¬ 
pertinent Fellow, that Will Trippit begins to be smoaked, and 
that Frank Smoothly himself is within a Month of a Coxcomb, 
in case I think fit to continue this Paper. For my Part, as it 
is my Business in some Measure to detect such as would lead 
astray weak Minds by their false Pretences to Wit and Judg¬ 
ment, Humour and Gallantry, I shall not fail to lend the best 
Lights I am able to the fair Sex for the Continuation of 
these their Discoveries. L 


No. 93. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, June 16, 

. . . Spaiio hrevi 

Spem longam reseces; dum loqnimitr, fugerit invida 
A etas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. —Hor. 

We all of us complain of the Shortness of Time, saith Seneca, 
and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our 
Lives, says he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in 
i—*K JW 



288 THE SPECTATOR No. g^. Saturday, June i6, 1711 

doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought 
to do; We are always Complaining our Days are few, and 
Acting as though there would be no End of them. That noble 
Philosopher has described our Inconsistency with our selves 
in this Particular, by all those various turns of Expression and 
Thought which are peculiar to his Writings. 

I often consider Mankind as wholly inconsistent with it self 
in a Point that bears some Affinity to the former. Though we 
seem grieved at the Shortness of Life in general, we are wishing 
every Period of it at an end. The Minor longs to be at Age, 
then to be a Man of Business, then to make up an Estate, then 
to arrive at Honours, then to retire. Thus although the whole 
of Life is allowed by every one to be short, the several Divisions 
of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our 
Span in general, but would fain contract the Parts of which it 
is composed. The Usurer would be very well satisfycd to have 
all the Time annihilated that lies between the present Moment 
and next Quarter-day. The Politician would be contented 
to lose three Years in his Life, could he place things in the 
Posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a 
Revolution of Time. The Lover would be glad to strike out 
of his Existence all the Moments that are to pass away before 
the happy Meeting. Thus, as fast as our Time runs, we should 
be very glad in most parts of our Lives that it ran much faster 
than it does. Several Hours of the Day hang upon our Hands, 
nay we wish away whole Years; and travel through Time as 
through a Country filled with many wild and empty Wastes, 
which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those 
several little Settlements or imaginary Points of Rest which are 
dispersed up and down in it. 

If we divide the Life of most Men into twenty Parts, we shall 
find that at least nineteen of them are meer Gaps and Chasms, 
which are neither filled with Pleasure nor Business. I do not 
however include in this Calculation the Life of those Men who 
are in a perpetual Hurry of Affairs, but of those who only are 
not always engaged in Scenes of Action; and I hope I shall not 
do an unacceptable Piece of Service to these Persons, if 1 point 
out to them certain Methods for the filling up their empty 
Spaces of Life. The Methods I shall propose to them, are as 
follow. 

The first is the Exercise of Virtue, in the most general 
Acceptation of the Word. That Particular Scheme which 
comprehends the Social Virtues may give Employment to the 
most industrious Temper, and find a Man in Business more than 
the most active Station of Life. To advise the Ignorant, re¬ 
lieve the Needy, comfort the Afflicted, are Duties that fall in 



No. 93. Saturday, June 16, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 289 

our way almost every Day of our Lives. A Man has frequent 
Opportunities of mitigating the Fierceness of a Party; of doing 
Justice to the Character of a deserving Man; of softning the 
Envious, quieting the Angry, and rectifying the Prejudiced; 
which are all of them Employments suited to a reasonable 
Nature, and bring great Satisfaction to the Person who can 
busy himself in them with Discretion. 

There is another kind of Virtue that may find Employment 
for those Retired Hours in which we are altogether left to our 
selves, and destitute of Company and Conversation; 1 mean, 
that Intercourse and Communication which every reasonable 
Creature ought to maintain with the great Author of his Being. 
The Man who lives under an habitual Sense of the Divine 
Presence keeps up a perpetual Cheerfulness of Temper, and 
enjoys every Moment the Satisfaction of thinking himself in 
Company with his dearest and best of Friends. The Time 
never lies heavy upon him: It is impossible for him to be alone. 
His Thoughts and Passions are the most busied at such Hours 
when those of other Men are the most unactive. He no sooner 
steps out of the World but his Heart burns with Devotion, 
swells with Hope, and triumphs in the Consciousness of that 
Presence which every where surrounds him; or, on the contrary, 
pours out its Fears, its Sorrows, its Apprehensions, to the great 
Supporter of its Existence. 

I have here only considered the Necessity of a Man's being 
Virtuous, that he may have something to do; but if we con¬ 
sider further that the Exercise of Virtue is not only an Amuse¬ 
ment for the time it lasts, but that its Influence extends to 
those Parts of our Existence which lie beyond the Grave, and 
that our whole Eternity is to take its Colour from those Hours 
which we here employ in Virtue or in Vice, the Argument 
redoubles upon us for putting in Practice this Method of 
passing away our Time. 

When a Man has but a little Stock to improve, and has 
Opportunities of turning it all to good Account, what shall we 
think of him if he suffers nineteen Parts of it to he dead, and 
perhaps employs even the twentieth to his Ruin or Disadvan¬ 
tage ? But because the Mind cannot be always in its Fervours, 
nor strained up to a pitch of Virtue, it is necessary to find out 
proper Employments for it in its Relaxations. 

The next Method therefore that I would propose to fill up 
our Time, should be useful and innocent Diversions. I must 
confess I think it is below reasonable Creatures to be altogether 
conversant in such Diversions as are meerly innocent, and have 
nothing else to recommend them, but that there is no hurt in 
them. Whether any kind of Gaming has even thus much tq, 



290 THE SPECTATOR No.g^. Saturday, June i6, 1711 

say for it self, I shall not determine; but I think it is very 
wonderful to see Persons of the best Sense passing away a 
dozen Hours together in shuffling and dividing a Pack of Cards, 
with no other Conversation but what is made up of a few 
Game Phrases, and no other Ideas but those of black or red 
Spots ranged together in different Figures. Would not a Man 
laugh to hear any one of this Species complaining that Life 
is short ? 

The Stage might be made a perpetual Source of the most 
noble and useful Entertainments, were it under proper 
Regulations. 

But the Mind never unbends it self so agreeably as in the 
Conversation of a well-chosen Friend. There is indeed no 
Blessing of Life that is any way comparable to the Enjoyment 
of a discreet and virtuous Friend. It eases and unloads the 
Mind, clears and improves the Understanding, engenders 
Thoughts and Knowledge, animates Virtue and good Resolu¬ 
tions, sooths and allays the Passions, and finds Employment 
for most of the vacant Hours of Life. 

Next to such an Intimacy with a particular Person, one would 
endeavour after a more general Conversation with such as are 
able to entertain and improve those with whom they converse, 
which are Qualifications that seldom go asunder. 

There are many other useful Amusements of Life, which one 
would endeavour to multiply, that one might on all Occasions 
have Recourse to something, rather than sulier the Mind to lie 
idle, or run adrift with any Passion that chances to rise in it. 

A Man that has a Taste of Musick, Painting, or Architecture, 
is like one that has another Sense, when compared with such 
as have no Relish of those Arts. The Florist, the Planter, the 
Gardiner, the Husbandman, when they are only as Accom¬ 
plishments to the Man of Fortune, are great Reliefs to a 
Country Life, and many ways useful to those who are possessed 
of them. 

But of all the Diversions of Life, there is none so proper to 
fill up its empty Spaces as the reading of useful and entertain¬ 
ing Authors. But this I shall only touch upon, because it in 
some measure interferes with the third Method, which I shall 
propose in another I'aper, for the Employment of our dead 
unactive Hours, and which I shall only mention in general to 
be the Pursuit of Knowledge. L 



No. 94 * Monday, June iS, ijii THE SPECTATOR 291 
No. 94. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, June 18, 


. . . Hoc est 

Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui .— Mart. 

The last Method which I proposed in my Saturday’s Paper, for 
filling up those empty Spaces of Life which are so tedious and 
burthensome to idle People, is the employing our selves in the 
Pursuit of Knowledge. I remember Mr. Boyle, speaking of a 
certain Mineral, tells us. That a Man may consume his whole 
Life in the Study of it, without arriving at the Knowledge of all 
its Qualities. The Truth of it is, there is not a single Science, 
or any Branch of it, that might not furnish a Man with Business 
for Life, though it were much longer than it is. 

I shall not here engage on those beaten Subjects of the Useful¬ 
ness of Knowledge, nor of the Pleasure and Perfection it gives 
the Mind, nor on the Methods of attaining it, nor recommend 
any particular Branch of it, all which have been the Topicks 
of many other Writers; but shall indulge my self in a Specula¬ 
tion that is more uncommon, and may therefore perhaps be 
more entertaining. 

I have before shewn how the unemployed Parts of Life 
appear long and tedious, and shall here endeavour to shew 
how those Parts of Life which are exercised in Study, Reading, 
and the Pursuits of Knowledge, are long but not tedious, and 
by that Means discover a Method of lengthening our Lives, and 
at the same Time of turning all the Parts of them to our 
Advantage. 

Mr. Lock observes, ‘That we get the Idea of Time, or Dura¬ 
tion, by reflecting on that Train of Ideas which succeed one 
another in our Minds: That for this Reason, when we sleep 
soundly without dreaming, we have no Perception of Time, or 
the Length of it, whilst we sleep; and that the Moment wherein 
we leave off to think, till the Moment we begin to think again, 
seem to have no Distance.' To which the Author adds; ‘And 
so, I doubt not, but it would be to a waking Man, if it were 
possible for him to keep only one Idea on his Mind, without 
Variation, and the Succession of others: And we see, that one 
who fixes his Thoughts very intently on one thing, so as to 
take but little Notice of the Succession of Ideas that pass in his 
Mind whilst he is taken up with that earnest Contemplation, 
lets slip out of his Account a good Part of that Duration, and 
thinks that Time shorter than it is.’ 

We might carry this Thought further, and consider a Man 
as, on one Side, shortening his Time by thinking on nothing, 05 



292 THE SPECTATOR No. 94. Monday, June 18, 1711 

but a few things; so, on the other, as lengthening it, by employ¬ 
ing his Thoughts on many Subjects, or by entertaining a quick 
and constant Succession of Ideas. Accordingly Monsieur 
Mallehranche in his Enquiry after Truth, (which was published 
several Years before Mr. Lock's Essay on Humane Under¬ 
standing) tells us, That it is possible some Creatures may think 
Half an Hour as long as we do a thousand Years; or look upon 
that Space of Duration which we call a Minute, as an Hour, a 
Week, a Month, or an whole Age. 

This Notion of Monsieur Mallehranche is capable of some little 
Explanation from what I have quoted out of Mr. Lock', for 
if our Notion of Time is produced by our reflecting on the 
Succession of Ideas in our Mind, and this Succession may be 
infinitely accelerated or retarded, it will follow, that different 
Beings may have different Notions of the same Parts of Dura¬ 
tion, according as their Ideas, which we suppose are equally 
distinct in each of them, follow one another in a greater or less 
Degree of Rapidity. 

There is a famous Passage in the Alcoran, which looks as if 
Mahomet had been possessed of the Notion we are now speaking 
of. It is there said. That the Angel Gabriel took Mahomet out 
of his Bed one Morning to give him a Sight of all things in the 
seven Heavens, in Paradise, and in Hell, which the Prophet 
took a distinct View of; and after having held ninety thousand 
Conferences with God, was brought back again to his Bed. 
All this, says the Alcoran, was transacted in so small a Space of 
Time, that Mahomet, at his Return, found his Bed still warm, 
and took up an Earthen Pitcher (which was thrown down at 
the very Instant that the Angel Gabriel carried him away) 
before the Water was all spilt. 

There is a very pretty Story in the Turkish Tales which re¬ 
lates to this Passage of that famous Impostor, and bears some 
Affinity to the Subject we are now upon. A Sultan of Aegypt, 
who was an Infidel, used to laugh at this Circumstance in 
Mahomet's Life, as what was altogether impossible and absurd; 
But conversing one Day with a great Doctor in the Law, who 
had the Gift of working Miracles, the Doctor told him, he would 
quickly convince him of the Truth of this Passage in the History 
of Mahomet, if he would consent to do what he should desire 
of him. Upon this the Sultan was directed to place himself 
by an huge Tub of Water, which he did accordingly; and as 
he stood by the Tub, amidst a Circle of his great Men, the holy 
Man bid him plunge his Head into the Water, and draw it up 
again: The King accordingly thrust his Head into the Water, 
and at the same time found himself at the Foot of a Mountain 
on a Sea-shore. The King immediately began to rage against 



No. 94 * Monday, June iS, ly II THE SPECTATOR 293 

his Doctor for this Piece of Treachery and Witchcraft; but at 
length, knowing it was in vain to be angry, he set himself to 
think (m proper Methods for getting a Livelihood in this strange 
Country: Accordingly he applied himself to some People whom 
he saw at work in a neighbouring Wood; these People con¬ 
ducted him to a Town that stood at a little Distance from 
the Wood, where after some Adventures he married a Woman 
of great Beauty and Fortune. He lived with this Woman so 
long till he had by her seven Sons and seven Daughters: He 
was afterwards reduced to great Want, and forced to think of 
plying in the Streets as a Porter for his Livelyhood. One 
Day as he was walking alone by the Sea-Side, being seized with 
many melancholy Reflections upon his former and his present 
State of Life, which had raised a Fit of Devotion in him, he 
threw off his Cloaths with a Design to wash himself, accord¬ 
ing to the Custom of the MaJwmetans, before he said his 
Prayers. 

After his first Plunge into the Sea, he no sooner raised his 
Head above the Water, but he found himself standing by the 
Side of the Tub, with the great Men of his Court about him, 
and the holy Man at his Side: He immediately upbraided his 
Teacher for having sent him on such a Course of Adventures, 
and betray’d him into so long a State of Misery and Servitude; 
but was wonderfully surprized when he heard that the State 
he talked of was only a Dream and Delusion; that he had not 
stirred from the Place where he then stood; and that he had 
only dipped his Head into the Water, and immediately taken it 
out again. 

The Mahometan Doctor took this Occasion of instructing 
the Sultri fiat nothing was impossible with God; and that 
He, will, vviiom a Thousand Years are but as one Day, can if he 
pleases make a single Day, nay a single Moment, appear to any 
of his Creatures as a thousand Years. 

1 shall leave my Reader to compare these Eastern Fables 
with the Notions of those two great Philosophers whom I have 
quoted in this Paper; and shall only, by way of Application, 
desire him to consider how we may extend Life beyond its 
natural Dimensions, by applying ounselves diligently to the 
Pursuits of Knowledge. 

The Hours of a wise Man are lengthened by his Ideas, as 
those of a Fool are by his Passions: The Time of the one 
is long, because he does not know what to do with it; so 
is that of the other, because he distinguishes every Moment 
of it with useful or amusing Thought; or in other Words, 
because the one is always wishing it away, and the other 
always enjoying it. , 



294 7 'HE SPECTATOR No. g^. Monday, June i8, 1711 

How different is the View of past Life, in the Man who is 
grown old in Knowledge and Wisdom, from that of him who 
is grown old in Ignorance and Folly? The latter is like the 
Owner of a barren Country, that fills his Eye with the Prospect 
of naked Hills and Plains which produce nothing either profit¬ 
able or ornamental; the other beholds a beautiful and spacious 
Landskip, divided into delightful Gardens, green Meadows, 
fruitful Fields, and can scarce cast his Eye on a single Spot of 
his Possessions, that is not covered with some Beautiful Plant 
or Flower. L 


No. 95. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, June 19 

Curae hves loquuntur, ingentes stupent. 

Having read the two following Letters with much Pleasure, 
I cannot but think the good Sense of them will be as agreeable 
to the Town as any thing I could say either on the Topicks 
they treat of, or any other. They both allude to former 
Papers of mine, and I do not question but the first, which is 
upon inward Mourning, will be thought the Production of a 
Man who is well acquainted with the generous Earnings of 
Distress in a Manly Temper, which is above the Relief of 
Tears. A Speculation of my own on that Subject I shall defer 
'till another Occasion. 

The second Letter is from a Lady of a Mind as great as her 
Understanding. There is, perhaps, something in the beginning 
of it which I ought in Modesty to conceal; but I have so much 
Esteem for this Correspondent, that I will not alter a Tittle of 
what she writes, tho' I am thus Scrupulous at the Price of 
being Ridiculous. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

I was very well pleased with your Discourse upon General 
Mourning; and should be obliged to you, if you would enter 
into the Matter more deeply, and give us your Thoughts upon 
the common Sense the ordinary People have of the Demonstra¬ 
tions of Grief, who prescribe Rules and Fashions to the most 
solemn Affliction; such as the Loss of the nearest Relations 
and dearest Friends. You cannot go to visit a sick Friend, 
but some impertinent Waiter about him observes the Muscles 
of your Face, as strictly as if they were Prognosticks of his 
Death or Recovery. If he happens to be taken from you, you 



No. g$. Tuesday, June ig, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 295 

are immediately surrounded with Numbers of these Spectators, 
who expect a Melancholy Shrug of your Shoulders, a Pathetical 
Shake of your Head, and an Expressive Distortion of your 
Face, to measure your Affection and Value for the Deceased: 
But there is nothing, on these Occasions, so much in their 
Favour as immoderate Weeping. As all their Passions are 
superficial, they imagine the Seat of Love and Friendship to 
be placed visibly in the Eyes: They judge what Stock of Kind¬ 
ness you had for the Living, by the quantity of Tears you pour 
out for the Dead; so that if one Body wants that Quantity 
of Salt-water another abounds with, he is in great Danger of 
being thought insensible or ill-natured: They are Strangers to 
Friendship, whose Grief happens not to be moist enough to wet 
such a Parcel of Handkerchiefs. But Experience has told us 
nothing is so fallacious as this outward Sign of Sorrow; and the 
natural History of our Bodies will teach us, that this Flux of 
the eyes, this Faculty of weeping, is peculiar only to some Con¬ 
stitutions. We observe in the tender Bodies of Children, when 
crossed in their little Wills and Expectations, how dissolvable 
they are into Tears; If this were what Grief is in Men, Nature 
would not be able to support them in the Excess of it for one 
Moment. Add to this Observation, how quick is their Transi¬ 
tion from this Passion to that of their Joy. I won't say we see 
often, in the next tender things to Children, Tears shed without 
much grieving. Thus it is common to shed Tears without 
much Sorrow, and as common to suffer much Sorrow without 
shedding Tears. Grief and Weeping are indeed frequent Com¬ 
panions, but, I believe, never in their highest Excesses. As 
Laughter does not proceed from profound Joy, so neither does 
Weeping from profound Sorrow. The Sorrow which appears so 
easily at the Eyes, cannot have pierced deeply into the Heart. 
The Heart, distended with Grief, stops all the Passages for 
Tears or Lamentations. 

Now, Sir, what I would incline you to in all this, is, that 
you would inform the shallow Criticks and Observers upon 
Sorrow, that true Affliction labours to be invisible, that it is a 
Stranger to Ceremony, and that it bears in its own Nature a 
Dignity much above the little Circumstances which are affected 
under the Notion of Decency. You must know. Sir, I have 
lately lost a dear Friend, for whom I have not yet shed a Tear, 
and for that Reason your Animadversions on that Subject 
would be the more acceptable to. 

Sir, 

Your most Humble Servant, 

B. D.* . 



296 THE SPECTATOR No. 95. Tuesday, June 19, 1711 

*Mr. Spectator, June the i^th. 

As I hope there are but few that have so little Gratitude as 
not to acknowledge the Usefulness of your Pen, and to esteem 
it a Publick Benefit; so I am sensible, be that as it will, you must 
nevertheless find the Secret and Incomparable Pleasure of 
doing Good, and be a great Sharer in the Entertainment you 
give. I acknowledge our Sex to be much obliged, and I hope 
improved by your Labours, and even your Intentions more 
particularly for our Service. If it be true, as 'tis sometimes 
said, that our Sex have an Influence on the other, your Paper 
may be a yet more general Good. Your directing us to Read¬ 
ing is certainly the best Means to our Instruction; but I think, 
with you. Caution in that Particular very useful, since the 
Improvement of our Understandings may, or may not, be of 
Service to us, according as it is managed. It has been thought 
we are not generally so Ignorant as Ill-taught, or that our Sex 
does so often want Wit, Judgment, or Knowledge, as the right 
Application of them: You are so well-bred, as to say your fair 
Readers are already deeper Scholars than the Beaus, and that 
yoti could name some of them that talk much better than 
several Gentlemen that made a Figure at WilVs: This may 
possibly be, and no great Compliment, in my Opinion, even 
supposing your Comparison to reach Tom's and the Grecian: 
Sure you are too wise to think That a Real Commendation of a 
Woman. Were it not rather to be wished we improved in our 
own Sphere, and approved our selves better Daughters, Wives, 
Mothers, and Friends? 

I can’t but agree with the Judicious Trader in Cheapside 
(though I am not at all prejudiced in his Favour) in recom¬ 
mending the Study of Arithmetick; and must dissent even 
from the Authority which you mention, when it advises the 
making our Sex Scholars. Indeed a little more Philosophy, in 
order to the Subduing our Passions to our Reason, might be 
sometimes serviceable, and a Treatise of that Nature 1 should 
approve of, even in Exchange for Theodosius, or the Force oj 
Love; but as I well know you want not Hints, I will proceed no 
further than to recommend the Bishop of Cambray’s Educa¬ 
tion of a Daughter, as 'tis Translated into the only Language I 
have any Knowledge of, tho' perhaps very much to its Dis¬ 
advantage. I have heard it objected against that Piece, that 
its Instructions are not of General Use, but only fitted for a 
great Lady; but I confess I am not of that Opinion; for I don't 
remember tbat there are any Rules laid down for the Expences 
of a Woman, in which Particular only I tnink a Gentlewoman 
ought to differ from a Lady of the best Fortune, or Highest 
Quality, and net in their Principles of Justice, Gratitude, 



No. 95. Tuesday, June 19, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 297 

Sincerity, Prudence, or Modesty. I ought perhaps to make an 
Apology for this long Epistle, but as I rather believe you a 
Friend to Sincerity, than Ceremony, shall only assure you I am, 
Sir, 

Your Most Humble Servant, 

T Anabclla.' 

No. 96. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, June 20. 

. . . Amicum 

Mancipium domino frugi . . .—Hor. 

*Mr. Spectator, 

I HAVE frequently read your Discourse upon Servants, and, as 
I am one my self, have been much offended, that in that Variety 
of Forms wherein you considered the Bad, you found no Place 
to mention the Good. There is however one Observation of 
yours I approve, which is. That there are Men of Wit and good 
Sense among all Orders of Men: and that Servants report most 
of the Good or Ill which is spoken of their Masters. That 
there are Men of Sense who live in Servitude, I have the Vanity 
to say I have felt to my woful Experience. You attribute very 
justly the Source of our general Iniquity to Board-Wages, and 
the Manner of living out of a domestick Way: But I cannot give 
you my Thoughts on this Subject any Way so well, as by a 
short Account of my own Life to this the Forty fifth Year of 
my Age; that is to say, from my being first a Foot-boy at 
Fourteen, to my present Station of a Nobleman’s Porter in the 
Year of my Age above-mentioned. 

Know then, that my Father was a poor Tenant to the 
Family of Sir Stephen Rackrent: Sir Stephen put me to School, 
or rather made me follow his Son Harry to School, from my 
Ninth Year; and there, though Sir Stephen paid something for 
my Learning, I was used like a Servant, and was forc'd to get 
what Scraps of Learning I could by my own Industry, for the 
Schoolmaster took very little Notice of me. My young Master 
was a Lad of very sprightly Parts; and my being constantly 
about him and loving him, was no small Advantage to me. My 
Master loved me extremely, and has often been whipped for 
not keeping me at a Distance. He used always to say. That 
when he came to his Estate I should have a Lease of my 
Father's Tenement for nothing. I came up to Town with him 
to Westminster School; at which Time he taught me, at Night, 
all he learnt, and put me to find out Words in the Dictionary 



298 THE SPECTATOR No. g6. Wednesday, June 20, lyii 

when he was about his Exercise. It was the Will of Providence 
that Master Harry was taken very ill of a Fever, of which he 
died within ten Days after his first falling sick. Here was the 
first Sorrow I ever knew: and I assure you, Mr. Spectator, I 
remember the beautiful Action of the sweet Youth in his 
Fever, as fresh as if it were Yesterday. If he wanted any 
thing, it must be given him by Tom: When I let any thing fall 
through the Grief I was under, he would cry, “Do not beat 
the poor Boy: Give him some more Julep for me, no Body 
else shall give it me." He would strive to hide his being so 
bad, when he saw I could not bear his being in so much Danger, 
and comforted me, saying, “Tom, Tom, have a good Heart." 
When I was holding a Cup at his Mouth he fell into Convulsions; 
and at this very Time I hear my dear Master's last Groan. I 
was quickly turned out of the Room, and left to sob and beat 
my Head against the Wall at my Leisure. The Grief I was in 
was inexpressible; and every Body thought it would have cost 
me my Life. In a few Days my old Lady, who was one of the 
Housewives of the World, thought of turning me out of Doors, 
because I put her in Mind of her Son. Sir Stephen proposed 
putting me to Prentice, but my Lady being an excellent 
Manager, would not let her Husband throw away his Money in 
Acts of Charity. I had Sense enough to be under the utmost 
Indignation, to see her discard with so little Concern one her 
Son had loved so much; and went out of the House to ramble 
wherever my Feet would carry me. 

The third Day after I left Sir Stephen’s Family, I was 
strolling up and down the Walks in the Temple. A young 
Gentleman of the House, who (as I heard him say afterwards) 
seeing me half starved and well dressed, thought me an Equipage 
ready to his Hand, after very little Enquiry more than did I 
want a Master? bid me follow him: I did so, and in a very little 
while thought my self the happiest Creature in this World. 
My Time was taken up in carrying Letters to Wenches, or 
Messages to young Ladies of my Master's Acquaintance. We 
rambled from Tavern to Tavern, to the Play-house, the Mul¬ 
berry-garden, and all Places of Resort; where my Master 
engaged every Night in some new Amour, in which and drink¬ 
ing he spent all his Time when he had Money. During these 
Extravagancies I had the Pleasure of lying on the Stairs of a 
Tavern half a Night, playing at Dice with other Servants, and 
the like Idlenesses. When my Master was moneyless, I was 
generally employed in transcribing amorous Pieces of Poetry, 
old Songs, and new Lampoofis. This Life held till my Master 
married, and he had then the Prudence to turn me ofi because 
1 was in the Secret of his Intreagues. 



No. g6. Wednesday, June 20, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 299 

I was utterly at a Loss what Course to take next; when at 
last I applied my self to a Fellow-sufferer, one of his Mistresses, 
a Woman of the Town. She happening at that Time to be 
pretty full of Money, cloathed me from Head to Foot; and 
knowing me to be a sharp Fellow, employed me accordingly. 
Sometimes I was to go abroad with her, and when she had 
pitched upon a young Fellow she thought for her Turn, I was 
to be dropped as one she could not trust. She would often 
cheapen Goods at the New Exchange] and when she had a Mind 
to be attacked, she would send me away on an Errand. When 
an humble Servant and she were beginning a Parley, I came 
immediately, and told her Sir John was coming home; then 
she would order another Coach to prevent being dogged. The 
Lover makes Signs to me as T get behind the Coach, I shake my 
Head it was impossible: I leave my Lady at the next Turning, 
and follow the Cully to know how to fall in his way on another 
Occasion. Besides good Offices of this Nature, I writ all my 
Mistress's Love-Letters; some from a Lady that saw such a 
Gentleman at such a Place in such a coloured Coat, some shew¬ 
ing the Terrour she was in of a jealous old Husband, others 
explaining that the Severity of her Parents was such (tho' her 
Fortune was settled) that she was willing to run away with 
such a one tho' she knew he was but a younger Brother. In a 
Word, my Half-Education and Love of idle Books, made me 
outwrite all that made Love to her by way of Epistle; and as she 
was extreamly cunning, she did well enough in Company by 
a skilful Affectation of the greatest Modesty. In the Midst of 
all this, I was surprized with a Letter from her and a Ten 
Pound Note. 

*'Honest Tom, 

You will never see me more. I am married to a very cun¬ 
ning Country-Gentleman, who might possibly guess something 
if I kept you still: therefore farewell." 

When this Place was lost also in Marriage, I was resolved 
to go among quite another People for the Future; and got in 
Butler to one of those Families where there is a Coach kept, 
three or four Servants, a clean House, and a good general 
Outside upon a small Estate. Here I lived very comfortably 
for some Time, till I unfortunately found my Master, the very 
gravest Man alive, in the Garret with the Chambermaid. I 
knew the World too well to think of staying there; and the next 
Day pretended to have received a Letter out of the Country 
that my Father was dying, and got my Discharge with a 
Bounty for my Discretion. 

The next I lived with was a peevish single Man, whom I 



300 THE SPECTATOR No. g6. Wednesday, June 20, lyii 

stay'd with for a Year and a Half. Most Part of the Time I 
passed very easily; for when I began to know him, I minded no 
more than he meant what he said: so that one Day in good 
Humour he said, / was the best Man he ever had, by my want of 
Respect to him. 

These, Sir, are the chief Occurrences of my Life; and I will 
not dwell upon very many other Places I have been in, where 
I have been the strangest Fellow in the World, where no Body 
in the World had such Servants as they, where sure they were 
the unluckiest People in the World in Servants, and so forth. 
All I mean by this Representation, is. To shew you that we poor 
Servants are not (what you called us too generally) all Rogues; 
but that we are what we are, according to the Example of our 
Superiors. In the Family I am now in, I am guilty of no one 
Sin but Lying; which I do with a grave Face in my Gown and 
Staff every Day I live, and almost all Day long, in denying 
my Lord to impertinent Suitors, and my Lady to unwelcome 
Visitants. But, Sir, I am to let you know, that I am, when I 
can get abroad, a Leader of the Servants: I am he that keep 
Time with beating my Cudgel against the Boards in the Gallery 
at an Opera: I am he that am touched so properly at a Tragedy, 
when the People of Quality are staring at one another during 
the most important Incidents: When you hear in a Crowd a 
Cry in the right Place, an Humm where the Point is touched in 
a Speech, or an Hussa set up where it is the Voice of the 
People; you may conclude it is begun, or joined by, 

Sir. 

Your more than humble Servant, 

T Thomas Trusty.' 

No. 97. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, June 21. 

Projecere animas . . . —^Virg. 

Among the loose Papers which I have frequently spoken of 
heretofore, I find a Conversation between Pharamond and 
Eucrate upon the Subject of Duels, and the Copy of an Edict 
issued in 0 )nsequence of that Discourse. 

Eucrate argued. That nothing but the most severe and vin¬ 
dictive Punishments, such as placing the Bodies of the Offenders 
in Chains, and putting them to Death by the most exquisite 
Torments, would be sufficient to extirpate a Crime which had 
so long prevailed and was so firmly fixed in the Opinion of the 
World as great and laudable; but the King answered, That 
indeed Instances of Ignominy were necessary in the Cure of 



No.gy. Thursday, June 21, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 301 

this Evil; but considering that it prevailed only among such 
as had a Nicety in their Sense of Honour, and that it often 
happened that a Duel was fought to save Appearances to the 
World, when both Parties were in their Hearts in Amity and 
Reconciliation to each other; it was evident, that Turning the 
Mode another way would effectually put a Stop to what had 
Being only as a Mode. That to such Persons, Poverty and 
Shame were Torments sufficient; That he would not go further 
in punishing in others Crimes which he was satisfied he himself 
was most guilty of, in that he might have prevented them 
by speaking his Displeasure sooner. Besides which the King 
said, he was in general averse to Tortures, which was putting 
Human Nature it self, rather than the Criminal, to Disgrace; 
and that he would be sure not to use this Means where the 
Crime was but an ill Effect arising from a laudable Cause, the 
Fear of Shame. The King, at the same time, spoke with much 
Grace upon the Subject of Mercy; and repented of many Acts 
of that kind which had a magnificent Aspect in the doing, but 
dreadful Consequences in the Example. Mercy to Particulars, 
he observed, was Cruelty in the General: That tho’ a Prince 
could not revive a Dead Man by taking the Life of him who 
killed him, neither could he make Reparation to the next 
that should dye by the evil Example; or answer to himself 
for the Partiality, in not pardoning the next as well as the 
former Offender. ‘As for me,' says Pharamond, ‘I have 
conquer'd France, and yet have given Laws to my People: 
the Laws are my Methods of Life, they are not a Diminution but 
a Direction to my Power. I am still absolute to distinguish 
the Innocent and the Virtuous, to give Honours to the Brave 
and Generous; I am absolute in my Good-will, none can oppose 
my Bounty, or prescribe Rules for my Favour. While I can, 
as I please, reward the Good, I am under no Pain that I cannot 
pardon the Wicked: For which Reason,' continued Pharamond, 
* I will effectually put a stop to this Evil, by exposing no more 
the Tenderness of my Nature to the Importunity of having 
the same Respect to those who are miserable by their Fault, 
and those who are so by their Misfortune. Flatterers (con¬ 
cluded the King smiling) repeat to us Princes, that we are 
Heaven's Vicegerents: Let us be so, and let the only thing 
out of our Power be to do III.* 

Soon after the Evening, wherein Pharamond and Eucrate 
had this Conversation, the following Edict was Publish'd. 

Pharamond’s Edict against Duels. 

Pharamond, King of the Gauls, to all his Loving Subjects 
sendeth Greeting. 



302 THE SPECTATOR No.gy. Thursday, June 21, lyii 

Whereas it has come to our Royal Notice and Observation, 
that in Contempt of all Laws, Divine and Human, it is of late 
become a Custom among the Nobility and Gentry of this our 
Kingdom, upon slight and trivial, as well as great and urgent 
Provocations, to invite each other into the Field, there by 
their own Hands, and of their own Authority, to decide their 
Controversies by Combat; We have thought fit to take the said 
Custom into our Royal Consideration, and find, upon Enquiry 
into the usual Causes whereon such fatal Decisions have arisen, 
that by this wicked Custom, maugre all the Precepts of our 
Holy Religion, and the Rules of right Reason, the greatest Act 
of the Human Mind, Forgiveness of Injuries, is become vile and 
shameful; that the Rules of Good Society and Virtuous Con¬ 
versation are hereby inverted; that the Loose, the Vain, and 
the Impudent, insult the Careful, the Discreet, and the Modest ; 
that all Virtue is suppressed, and all Vice supported, in the one 
Act of being capable to dare to the Death. We have also 
further, with great Sorrow of Mind, observed that this Dreadful 
Action, by long Impunity, (our Royal Attention being em¬ 
ployed upon Matters of more general Concern) is become 
Honourable, and the Refusal to engage in it Ignominious. In 
these our Royal Cares and Enquiries we are yet farther made to 
understand, that the Persons of most Eminent Worth, and most 
Hopeful Abilities, accompanied with the strongest Passion for 
true Glory, are such as are most liable to be involved in the 
Dangers arising from this Licence. Now taking the said 
Premises into our serious Consideration, and well weighing 
that all such Emergencies (wherein the Mind is incapable of 
commanding it self, and where the Injury is too sudden or too 
exquisite to be born) are particularly provided for by Laws 
heretofore enacted: and that the Qualities of less Injuries, like 
those of Ingratitude, are too nice and delicate to come under 
General Rules; We do resolve to Blot this Fashion, or Wanton¬ 
ness of Anger, out of the Minds of our Subjects, by our Royal 
Resolutions declared in this Edict as follow. 

No Person who either sends or accepts a Challenge, or the 
Posterity of either, tho' no Death ensues thereupon, shall be, 
after the Publication of this our Edict, capable of bearing Office 
in these our Dominions. 

The Person who shall prove the sending or receiving a 
Challenge, shall receive, to his own use and Property, the whole 
Personal Estate of both Parties; and their Real Estate shall be 
immediately vested in the next Heir of the Offenders, in as 
ample manner as if the said Offenders were actually Deceased. 

In Cases where the Laws (which we have already granted to 
our Subjects) admit of an Appeal for Blood; when the Criminal 



No. 97. Thursday, June 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 303 

is condemned by the said Appeal, he shall not only suffer 
Death, but his whole Estate, Real, Mixed and Personal, shall 
from the hour of his Death be vested in the next Heir of the 
Person whose Blood he spilt. 

That it shall not hereafter be in our Royal Power, or that of 
our Successors, to pardon the said Offences, or restore the 
Offenders in their Estates, Honour, or Blood for ever. 

Given at our Court at Blois the 8ih of February 420. In the 
Second Year of our Reign.' T 


No. 98. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, June 22. 

. . . Tanta est quaerendi cura decoris. —Juv. 

There is not so variable a thing in Nature as a Lady's Head¬ 
dress: Within my own Memory I have known it rise and fall 
above thirty Degrees. About ten Years ago it shot up to a 
very great Height, insomuch that the Female Part of our 
Species were much taller than the Men. The Women were of 
such an enormous Stature, that we appeared as Grass-hoppers 
before them: At pre.sent the whole Sex is in a Manner dwarfed 
and shrunk into a Race of Beauties that seems almost another 
Species. I remember several Ladies, who were once very 
near seven Foot high, that at present want some Inches of 
five: How they came to be thus curtailed I cannot learn: 
whether the whole Sex be at present under any Penance which 
we know nothing of, or whether they have cast their Head¬ 
dresses in order to surprize us with something in that Kind 
which shall be entirely new: or whether some of the tallest of 
the Sex, being too cunning for the rest, have contrived this 
Method to make themselves appear sizeable, is still a Secret; 
tho’ I find most are of Opinion, they are at present like Trees 
new lopped and pruned, that will certainly sprout up and 
flourish with greater Heads than before. For my own Part, 
as I do not love to be insulted by Women who are taller than 
my self, I admire the Sex much more in their present Humilia¬ 
tion, which has reduced them to their natural Dimensions, than 
when they had extended their Persons, and lengthened them¬ 
selves out into formidable and gigantick Figures. I am not for 
adding to the beautiful Edifices of Nature, nor for raising any 
whimsical Superstructure upon her Plans: I must therefore 
repeat it, that I am highly pleased with the Coiffure now in 
Fashion; and think it shews the good Sense which at present 



304 THE SPECTATOR No. 98. Friday, June 22, 1711 

very much reigns among the valuable Part of the Sex. One 
may observe, that Women in all Ages have taken more Pains 
than Men to adorn the Outside of their Heads; and indeed I 
very much admire, that those Female Architects who raise such 
wonderful Structures out of Ribbands, Lace and Wire, have 
not been recorded for their respective Inventions. It is certain 
there has been as many Orders in these Kinds of Building, as 
in those which have been made of Marble: Sometimes they rise 
in the Shape of a Pyramid, sometimes like a Tower, and some¬ 
times like a Steeple. In Juvenal's Time the Building grew by 
several Orders and Stories, as he has very humorously 
described it. 

Tot premit ordinibus, tot adhuc compagibus altum 

A edijeat caput: A ndrotnachen a fronte videbis; 

Post minor est: credas aliam. —Juv. 

But I do not remember, in any Part of my Reading, that the 
Head-dress aspired to so great an Extravagance as in the 
fourteenth Century; when it was built up in a Couple of Cones 
or Spires, which stood so excessively high on each Side of the 
Head, that a Woman who was but a Pygmy without her Head¬ 
dress, appeared like a Colossus upon putting it on. Monsieur 
Paradin says, ‘That these old fashioned Fontanges rose an Ell 
above the Head; that they were pointed like Steeples, and had 
long loose Pieces of Crape fastened to the Tops of them, which 
were curiously fringed and hung down their Backs like 
Streamers.’ 

The Women might possibly have carried this Gothick 
Building much higher, had not a famous Monk, Thomas Conecte 
by Name, attacked it with great Zeal and Resolution. This 
holy Man travelled from Place to Place to preach down this 
monstrous Commode; and succeeded so well in it, that as 
the Magicians sacrificed their Books to the Flames upon the 
Preaching of an Apostle, many of the Women threw down their 
Head-dresses in the Middle of his Sermon, and made a Bonfire 
of them Within Sight of the Pulpit. He was so renowned, as 
well for the Sanctity of his Life as his Manner of Preaching, 
that he had often a Congregation of Twenty thousand People; 
the Men placing themselves on the one Side of his Pulpit, and 
the Women on the other that appeared (to use the Similitude 
of an ingenious Writer) like a Forrest of Cedars with their Heads 
reaching to the Clouds. He so warmed and animated the 
People against this monstrous Ornament, that it lay under a 
kind of Persecution; and whenever it appeared in publick was 
pelted down by the Rabble, who flung Stones at the Persons 
that wore it. But notwithstanding this Prodigy vanished while 



No. 98. Friday, June 22, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 305 

the Preacher was among them, it began to appear again some 
Months after his Departure, or, to tell it in Monsieur Paradin's 
own Words, ‘The Women that, like Snails in a Fright, had 
drawn in their Horns, shot them out again as soon as the 
Danger was over.’ This Extravagance of the Women's Head¬ 
dresses in that Age is taken notice of by Monsieur d'Argentre 
in the History of Bretagne, and by other Historians as well as 
the Person I have here quoted. 

It is usually observed, That a good Reign is the only proper 
Time for the making of Laws against the Exorbitance of Power; 
in the same Manner an excessive Head-dress may be attacked 
the most effectually when the Fashion is against it. I do 
therefore recommend this Paper to my female Readers by 
way of Prevention. 

I would desire the fair Sex to consider, how impossible it is 
for them to add any thing that can be ornamental to what is 
already the Master-piece of Nature. The Head has the most 
beautiful Appearance, as well as the highest Station, in a 
humane Figure. Nature has laid out all her Art in beautifying 
tlie Face: She has touched it with Vermillion, planted in it a 
double Row of Ivory, made it the Seat of Smiles and Blushes, 
lighted it up and enlivened it with the Brightness of the Eyes, 
hung it on each Side with curious Organs of Sense, given it 
Aires and Graces that cannot be described, and surrounded it 
with such a flowing Shade of Hair as sets all its Beauties in the 
most agreeable Light: In short, she seems to have designed the 
Head as the Cupola to the most glorious of her Works; and 
when we load it with such a Pile of supernumerary Ornaments, 
we destroy the Symmetry of the humane Figure, and foolishly 
contrive to call off the Eye from great and real Beauties, to 
childish Gew-gaws, Ribbands, and Bone-lace. L 


No. 99. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, Juno 23. 

. . . Turpi secernis honestum. —Hor. 

The Club, of which I have often declar'd my self a Member, 
were last Night engaged in a Discourse upon that which passes 
for the chief Point of Honour among Men and Women; and 
started a great many Hints upon the Subject which I thought 
were entirely new. I shall therefore methodize the se\'eral 
Reflections that arose upon this Occasion, and present my 
Reader with them for the Speculation of this Day; after having 
promised, that if there is any thing in this Paper which seems 



3o6 the spectator No. 99. Saturday, June 23, 1711 

to differ with any Passage of last Thursday's, the Reader will 
consider this as the Sentiments of the Club, and the other as 
my own private Thoughts, or rather those of Pharamond. 

The great Point of Honour in Men is Courage, and in Women 
Chastity. If a Man loses his Honour in one Rencounter, it is 
not impossible for him to regain it in another; a Slip in a 
Woman's Honour is irrecoverable. I can give no Reason for 
fixing the Point of Honour to these two Qualities; unless it be 
that each Sex sets the greatest Value on the Qualification 
which renders them the most amiable in the Eyes of the con- 
trary Sex. Had Men chosen for themselves, without Regard 
to the Opinions of the Fair Sex, I should believe the Choice 
would have fallen on Wisdom or Virtue; or had Women 
determined their own Point of Honour, it is probable that Wit 
or Good-Nature would have carried it against Chastity. 

Nothing recommends a Man more to the female Sex than 
Courage; whether it be that they are pleased to see one who is a 
Terror to others fall like a Slave at their Feet, or that this 
Quality supplies their own principal Defect, in guarding them 
from Insults and avenging their Quarrels, or that Courage is a 
natural Indication of a strong and sprightly C/onstitution. On 
the other Side, nothing makes a Woman more esteemed by the 
opposite Sex than Chastity; whether it be that we always prize 
those most who are hardest to come at, or that nothing besides 
Chastity, with its collateral Attendants, Truth, Fidelity, and 
Constancy, gives the Man a Property in the Person he loves, 
and consequently endears her to him above all things. 

I am very much pleased with a Passage in the Inscription 
on a Monument erected in Westminster Abby to the late Duke 
and Dutchess of Newcastle, ‘Her Name was Margaret Lucas, 
youngest Sister of the Lord Lucas of Colchester; a noble Family, 
for all the Brothers were valiant, and all the Sisters virtuous.' 

In Books of Chivalry, where the Point of Honour is strained 
to Madness, the whole Story runs on Chastity and Courage. 
The Damsel is mounted on a white Palfrey, as an Emblem of 
her Innocence; and, to avoid Scandal, must have a Dwarf for 
her Page. She is not to think of a Man, till some Misfortune 
has brought a Knight-Errant to her Relief. The Knight falls 
in Love, and did not Gratitude restrain her from murdering her 
Deliverer, would die at her Feet by her Disdain. However, 
he must waste many Years in the Desart, before her Virgin 
Heart can think of a Surrender. The Knight goes off, attacks 
every thing he meets that is bigger and stronger than himself; 
seeks all Opportunities of being knock’d on the Head; and after 
seven Years Rambling returns to his Mistress, whose Chastity 



No. gg. Saturday, June 2^, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 307 

has been attacked in the mean Time by Giants and Tyrants, 
and undergone as many Trials as her Lover’s Valour. 

In Spain, where there are still great Remains of this roman- 
tick Humour, it is a transporting Favour for a Lady to cast an 
accidental Glance on her Lover from a Window, tho' it be two 
or three Stories high; as it is usual for the Lover to assert his 
Passion for his Mistress, in single Combat with a mad Bull. 

The great Violation of the Point of Honour from Man to 
Man, is giving the Lie. One may tell another he whores, 
drinks, blasphemes, and it may pass unresented; but to say 
he lies, tho’ but in jest, is an Affront that nothing but Blood 
can expiate. The Reason perhaps may be, because no other 
Vice implies a Want of Courage so much as the making of a 
Lie; and therefore telling a Man he lies, is touching him in the 
most sensible Part of Honour, and indirectly calling him a 
Coward. I cannot omit under this Head what Herodotus tells 
us of the ancient Persians, That from the Age of five Years to 
twenty they instruct their Sons only in three things, to manage 
the Horse, to make use of the Bow, and to speak Truth. 

The placing the Point of Honour in this fal.se kind of Courage, 
has given Occasion to the very Refuse of Mankind, who have 
neither Virtue nor common Sense, to set up for Men of Honour. 
An English Peer, who has not been long dead, used to tell a 
pleasant Story of a French Gentleman that visited him early 
one Morning at Paris, and after great Professions of Respect, 
let him know that he had it in his Power to oblige him; which, 
in short, amounted to this, that he believed he could tell his 
Lordship the Person’s Name who justled him as he came out 
from the Opera; but before he would proceed, he begged his 
Lordship that he would not deny him the Honour of making 
him his Second. The English Lord, to avoid being drawn into 
a very foolish Affair, told him that he was under Engagements 
for his two next Duels to a Couple of particular Friends. Upon 
which the Gentleman immediately withdrew; hoping his Lord- 
ship would not take it ill, if he meddled no farther in an Affair 
from whence he himself was to receive no Advantage. 

The beating down this false Notion of Honour, in so vain 
and lively a People as those of France, is deservedly looked upon 
as one of the most glorious Parts of their present King’s Reign. 
It is Pity but the Punishment of these mischievous Notions 
should have in it some particular Circumstances of Shame and 
Infamy; that those who are Slaves to them may see, that 
instead of advancing their Reputations they lead them to 
Ignominy and Dishonour. 

Death is not sufficient to deter Men, who make it their Glory 
to despise it; but if every one that fought a Duel were to stand 



3o8 the spectator No. gg. Saturday, June 23, 1711 

in the Pillory, it would quickly lessen the Number of these 
imaginary Men of Honour, and put an End to so absurd a 
Practice. 

When Honour is a Support to virtuous Principles, and runs 
parallel with the Laws of God and our Country, it cannot be too 
much cherished and encouraged: But when the Dictates of 
Honour are contrary to those of Religion and Equity, they are 
the greatest Depravations of human Nature, by giving wrong 
Ambitions and false Ideas of what is good and laudable; and 
should therefore be exploded by all Governments, and driven 
out as the Bane and Plague of human Society. L 


No. 100. 

[STEELE.] Monday, June 25. 

Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico. —Hor. 

A Man advanced in Years that thinks fit to look back upon his 
former Life, and calls that only Life which was passed with 
Satisfaction and Enjoyment, excluding all Parts which were 
not pleasant to him, will find himself very young, if not in 
his Infancy. Sickness, 111 Humour, and Idleness, will have 
robbed him of a great Share of that Space we ordinarily call 
our Life. It is therefore the Duty of every Man that would be 
true to himself, to obtain, if possible, a Disposition to be 
pleased, and place himself in a constant Aptitude for the 
Satisfactions of his Being. Instead of this, you hardly see a 
Man who is not uneasy in proportion to his Advancement in 
the Arts of Life. An affected Delicacy is the common Im¬ 
provement we meet with in those who pretend to be refined 
above others: They do not aim at true Pleasures themselves, 
but turn their Thoughts upon observing the false Pleasures of 
other Men. Such People are Valetudinarians in Society, and 
they should no more come into Company than a sick Man 
should come into the Air: If a Man is too weak to bear what is 
a Refreshment to Men in Health, he must still keep his Chamber. 
When any one in Sir Roger’s Company complains he is out of 
Order, he immediately calls for some Posset-drink for him, 
for which Reason that Sort of People who are for ever be¬ 
wailing their Constitution in other Places, are the Chcarfullest 
imaginable when he is present. 

It is a wonderful thing, that so many, and they not reckoned 
absurd, shall entertain those with whom they converse by 
giving them the History of their Pains and Aches; and imagine 
such Narrations their Quota of the Conversation. This is of 
all other the meanest Help to Discourse; and a Man must not 



No. loo. Monday, June 25, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 309 

think at all or think himself very insignificant, when he finds 
an Account of his Head-ach answered by another's asking 
what News in the last Mail ? Mutual good Humour is a Dress 
we ought to appear in wherever we meet, and we should make 
no Mention of what concerns our selves, without it be of Matters 
wherein our Friends ought to rejoyce: But indeed there are 
Crowds of People who put themselves in no Method of pleasing 
themselves or others: such are those whom we usually call 
indolent Persons. Indolence is, methinks, an intermediate 
Stage between Pleasure and Pain, and very much unbecoming 
any Part of our Life after we are out of the Nurse's Arms. 
Such an Aversion to Labour creates a constant Weariness, and, 
one would think, should make Existence it self a Burthen. 
The indolent Man descends from the Dignity of his Nature, and 
makes that Being which was Rational mecrly Vegetative: His 
Life consists only in the meer Encrease and Decay of a Body, 
which, with Relation to the rest of the World, might as well 
have been uninformed, as the Habitation of a reasonable Mind, 

Of this Kind is the Life of that extraordinary Couple Harry 
Tersett and his Lady. Harry was in the Days of his Celibacy 
one of those pert Creatures who have much Vivacity and little 
Understanding; Mrs. Rebecca Quickly, whom he married, had 
all that the Fire of Youth and a lively Manner could do towards 
making an agreeable Woman. These two People of seeming 
Merit fell into each other's Arms; and Passion being sated, 
and no Reason or good Sense in either to succeed it, their Life 
is now at a Stand; their Meals are insipid, and their Time 
tedious; their Fortune has placed them above Care, and their 
Loss of Taste reduced them below Diversion. When we talk 
of these as Instances of Inexistence, we do not mean, that in 
order to live it is necessary we should always be in jovial 
Crews, or crowned with Chaplets of Roses, as the merry 
Fellows among the Antients are described; but it is intended 
by considering these Contraries to Pleasure, Indolence and too 
much Delicacy, to shew that it is Prudence to preserve a 
Disposition in our selves to receive a certain Delight in all we 
hear and see. 

This portable Quality of good Humour seasons all the Parts 
and Occurrences we meet with, in such a Manner, that there 
are no Moments lost; but they all pass with so much Satis¬ 
faction, that the heaviest of Loads (when it is a Load) that of 
Time, is never felt by us. Varilas has this Quality to the 
highest Perfection, and communicates it wherever he appears: 
The Sad, the Merry, the Severe, the Melancholy, shew a new 
Chearfulness when he comes amongst them. At the same time 
no one can repeat any thing that Varilas hw ever said, that 



310 THE SPECTATOR No. loo. Monday, June 25, 1711 

deserves Repetition; but the Man has that innate Goodness of 
Temper, that he is welcome to every Body, because every Man 
thinks he is so to him. He does not seem to contribute any 
thing to the Mirth of the Company; and yet upon Reflection 
you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was 
whimsically said of a Gentleman, That if Varilas had wit, it 
would be the best Wit in the World. It is certain, when a 
well corrected lively Imagination and good Breeding are added 
to a sweet Disposition, they qualify it to be one of the greatest 
Ble.ssings, as well as Pleasures of Life. 

Men would come into Company with ten Times the Pleasure 
they do, if they were sure of hearing nothing which should 
shock them, as well as expected what would please them. 
When we know every Person that is spoken of, is represented 
by one who has no ill Will, and every thing that is mentioned 
described by one that is apt to set it in the best Light, the 
Entertainment must be delicate; because the Cook has nothing 
brought to his Hand but what is the most excellent in its Kind. 
Beautiful Pictures are the Entertainments of pure Minds, and 
Deformities of the corrupted. It is a Degree towards the Life 
of Angels, when we enjoy Conversation wherein there is nothing 
presented but in its Excellence; and a Degree towards that of 
Daemons, wherein nothing is shewn but in its Degeneracy. T 


No. loi, 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, June 26. 

Romulus 6* Liher pater 6' cum Castore Pollux, 

Post ingentia facta deorum in templa recepti, 

Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella 
Componunt, agros assignant, oppida condunt; 

Ploravere suis non respondere Javorem 
Speratum meritis. . . .—Hor. 

Censure, says a late ingenious Author, is the Tax a Man 
pays to the Publick for being Eminent. It is a Folly for an 
eminent Man to think of escaping it, and a Weakness to be 
affected with it. All the illustrious Persons of Antiquity, and 
indeed of every Age in the World, have passed through this 
fiery Persecution. There is no Defence against Reproach, but 
Obscurity; it is a kind of Concomitant to Greatness, as Satyrs 
and Invectives were an essential Part of a Roman Triumph. 

If Men of Eminence are exposed to Censure on one hand, they 
are as much liable to Flattery on the other. If they receive 
Reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive 
Praises which they do not deserve. In a word, the Man in a 



No. loi. Tuesday, June 26, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 311 

high Post is never regarded with an indifferent Eye, but always 
considered as a Friend or an Enemy. For this Reason Persons 
in great Stations have seldom their true Characters drawn, till 
several Years after their Deaths. Their personal Friendships 
and Enmities must cease, and the Parties they were engaged 
in be at an end, before their Faults or their Virtues can 
have Justice done them. When Writers have the least Oppor¬ 
tunity of knowing the Truth, they are in the best Disposition 
to tell it. 

It is therefore the Privilege of Posterity to adjust the 
Characters of Illustrious Persons, and to set matters right 
between those Antagonists who by their Rivalry for Greatness 
divided a whole Age into Factions. We can now allow Caesar 
to be a great Man, without derogating from Pompey; and 
celebrate the Virtues of Cato, without detracting from those of 
Caesar. Every one that has been long dead has a due Propor¬ 
tion of Praise allotted him. in which whilst he lived his Friends 
were too profuse and his Enemies too sparing. 

According to Sir Isaac Newton's Calculations, the last Comet 
that made its Appearance in 1680, imbibed so much Heat by 
its Approaches to the Sun, that it would have been two thou¬ 
sand times hotter than red hot Iron, had it been a Globe of 
that Metal; and that supposing it as big as the Earth, and at 
the same Distance from the Sun, it would be fifty thousand 
Years in cooling, before it recover'd its natural Temper. In 
the like manner, if an English Man considers the great Ferment 
into which our Pohtical World is thrown at present, and how 
intensely it is heated in all its Parts, he cannot suppose that it 
will cool again in less than three hundred Years. In such a 
Tract of Time it is possible that the Heats of the present Age 
may be extinguished, and our several Classes of great Men 
represented under their proper Characters. Some eminent 
Historian may then probably arise that will not write recentibus 
odiis, (as Tacitus expresses it,) with the Passions and Prejudices 
of a Contemporary Author, but make an impartial Distribution 
of Fame among the Great Men of the present Age. 

I cannot forbear entertaining my self very often with the 
Idea of such an imaginary Historian describing the Reign of 
ANNE the First, and introducing it with a Preface to his 
Reader, that he is now entring ujMDn the most shining Part of 
the English Story. The great Rivals in Fame will be then 
distinguished according to their respective Merits, and shine 
in their proper Points of Light. Such an one (says the His¬ 
torian) though variously represented by the Writers of his own 
Age, appears to have been a Man of more than ordinary 
Abilities, great Application, and uncommon Integrity: Nor, 
I— 



312 THE SPECTATOR No. loi. Tuesday, June 26, i^ii 

was such an one (tho' of an opposite Party and Interest) 
inferior to him in any of these Respects. The several An¬ 
tagonists who now endeavour to depreciate one anotlier, and 
are celebrated or traduced by different Parties, will then have 
the same Body of Admirers, and appear Illustrious in the 
Opinion of the whole British Nation. The Deserving Man, 
who can now recommend himself to the Esteem of but half his 
Countrymen, will then receive the Approbations and Applauses 
of a whole Age. 

Among the several Persons that flourish in this Glorious 
Reign, there is no Question but such a future Historian as the 
Person of whom I am speaking, will make mention of the Men 
of Genius and Learning, who have now any Figure in the 
British Nation. For my own part, I often flatter myself with 
the honourable Mention which will then be made of me; and 
have drawn up a Paragraph in my own Imagination, that I 
fancy will not be altogether unlike what will be found in some 
Page or other of this Imaginary Historian. 

It was under this Reign, says he, that the Spectator Pub 
lished those little Diurnal Essays which are still extant. We 
know very little of the Name or Person of this Author, except 
only that he was a Man of a very short b'ace, extreamly ad¬ 
dicted to Silence, and so great a Lover of Knowledge that he 
made a Voyage to Grand Cairo for no other Reason but to take 
the Measure of a Pyramid. His chief Friend was one Sir 
Roger de Coverly, a whimsical Country Knight, and a 
Templar whose Name he has not transmitted to us. He lived 
as a Lodger at the House of a Widow-Woman, and was a great 
Humourist in all parts of his Life. This is all we can affirm 
with any Certainty of his Person and Character. As for his 
Speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete Words 
and obscure Phrases of the Age in which he liv'd, we still 
understand enough of them to see the Diversions and Char¬ 
acters of the English Nation in his time: Not but that we are to 
make Allowance for the Mirth and Humour of the Author, 
who has doubtless strained many Representations of things 
beyond the Truth. For if we interpret his Words in their 
litteral Meaning, we must suppose that Women of the First 
Quality used to pass away whole Mornings at a Puppet-Show: 
That they attested their Principles by their Patches: That an 
Audience would sit out an Evening to hear a Dramatical 
Performance written in a Language which they did not under¬ 
stand: That Chairs and Flower-Pots were introduced as 
Actors upon the British Stage: That a Promiscuous Assembly 
of Men and Women were allowed to meet at Midnight in 
Masques within the Verge of the Court; with many Improbabili- 



No. loi. Tuesday, June 26, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 313 


ties of the like Nature. We must therefore, m these and the 
like Cases, suppose that these remote Hints and Allusions 
aimed at some certain Follies which were then in Vogue, and 
which at present we have not any Notion of. We may guess 
by several Passages in the Speculations, that there were Writers 
wKo endeavoured to detract from the Works of this Author; 
but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot 
guess at any Objections that could be made to his Paper. If 
we consider his Style with that Indulgence which we must shew 
to old English Writers, or if we look into the Variety of his 
Subjects, with those several Critical Dissertations, Moral 
Reflections, ♦♦♦♦t*** 

♦ ♦»!«****♦♦ 




* 


« >K 4: 4> 


4t * 


The following Part of the Paragraph is so much to my 
Advantage, and beyond any thing I can pretend to, that I 
hope my Reader will excuse me for not inserting it. L 


No. 102. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, June 27. 

. . . Lusus animo dehent aliquavdo dari, 

Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi. —Phaed. 

I DO not know whether to call the following Letter a Satyr 
upon Coquets, or a Representation of their several fantastical 
Accomplishments, or what other Title to give it; but as it is I 
shall communicate it to the Publick. It will sufficiently ex¬ 
plain its own Intention, so that I shall give it my Reader at 
length, without either Preface or Postscript. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

Women are armed with Fans as Men with Swords, and some¬ 
times do more Execution with them: To the End therefore that 
Ladies may be entire Mistresses of the Weapon which they 
bear, I have erected an Academy for the training up of young 
Women in the Exercise of the Fan, according to the most 
fashionable Airs and Motions that are now practised at Court. 
The Ladies who carry Fans under me are drawn up twice a 
Day in my great Hall, where they are instructed in the Use of 
their Arms, and exercised by the following Words of Command,, 



314 THE SPECTATOR No. 102. Wednesday, June 27,1711 

Handle your Fans, 

Unfurl your Fans, 

Discharge your Fans, 

Ground your Fans, 

Recover your Fans, ^ 

Flutter your Fans. 

By the right Observation of these few plain Words of Command, 
a Woman of a -^Jlbrable Genius who will apply her self diligently 
to her Exercise for the Space of but one half Year, shall be 
able to give her Fan all the Graces that can possibly enter 
into that little modish Machine. 

But to the End that my Readers may form to themselves 
a right Notion of this Exercise, I beg Leave to explain it to 
them in all its Parts. When my female Regiment is drawn up 
in Array, with every one her Weapon in her Hand, upon my 
giving the Word to handle their Fans, each of them shakes her 
Fan at me with a Smile, then gives her Right-hand Woman a 
Tap upon the Shoulder, then presses her Lips with the Ex¬ 
tremity of her Fan, then lets her Arms fall in an easy Motion, 
and stands in a Readiness to receive the next Word of Com¬ 
mand. All this is done with a close Fan, and is generally 
learned in the first Week. 

The next Motion is that of unfurling the Fan, in which are 
comprehended several little Flirts and Vibrations, as also 
gradual and deliberate Openings, with many voluntary Fall¬ 
ings asunder in the Fan it self, that are seldom learned under a 
Month’s Practice, This Part of the Exercise pleases the Spec¬ 
tators more than any other, as it discovers on a Sudden an 
inlinite Number of Cupids, Garlands, Altars, Birds, Beasts, 
Rainbows, and the like agreeable Figures, that display them¬ 
selves to View, whilst every one in the Regiment holds a 
Picture in her Hand. 

Upon my giving the Word to discharge their Fans, they 
give one general Crack that may be heard at a considerable 
Distance when the Wind sits fair. This is one of the most 
difhcult Parts of the Exercise] but I have several Ladies with 
me, who at their first Entrance could not give a Pop loud 
enough to be heard at the further End of a Room, who can 
now discharge a Fan in such a Manner, that it shall make a 
Report like a Pocket-Pistol. I have likewise taken Care (in 
order to hinder young Women from letting off their Fans in 
wrong Places or unsuitable Occasions) to shew upon what 
Subject the Crack of a Fan may come in properly: I have like¬ 
wise invented a Fan, with which a Girl of Sixteen, by the Help 
of a little Wind which is enclosed about one of the largest 



No. 102. Wednesday, June 27, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 315 

Sticks, can make as loud a Crack as a Woman of Fifty with an 
ordinary Fan. 

When the Fans are thus discharged, the Word of Command 
in Course is to ground their Fans. This teaches a Lady to 
quit her Fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to 
take up a Pack of Cards, adjust a Curl of liair, replace a falling 
Pin, or apply herself to any other Matter of Importance. This 
part of the Exercise, as it only consists in tossing a Fan with an 
Air upon a long Table (which stands by for that Purpose), 
may be learned in two Days Time as well as in a Twelve- 
month. 

When my Female Regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let 
them walk about the Room for some Time; when on a sudden 
(like Ladies that look upon their Watches after a long Visit) 
they all of them hasten to their Arms, catch them up in a 
Hurry, and place themselves in their proper Stations upon 
my calling out recover your Fans. This Part of the Exercise 
is not difficult, provided a Woman applies her Thoughts 
to it. 

The Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and indeed the Master¬ 
piece of the whole Exercise ', but if a Lady docs not mispend her 
Time, she may make herself Mistress of it in three Months. 

I generally lay aside the Dog-days and the hot Time of the 
Summer for the teaching this Part of the Exercise ; for as soon 
as ever I pronounce Flutter your Fans, the place is filled with so 
many Zephyrs and gentle Breezes as are very refreshing in that 
Season of the Year, though they might be dangerous to Ladies 
of a tender Constitution in any other. 

There is an infinite Variety of Motions to be made use of in 
the Flutter of a Fan : There is the angry Flutter, the modest 
Flutter, the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the meiTy 
Flutter, and the amorous Flutter. Not to be tedious, there is 
scarce any Emotion in the Mind which docs not produce a 
suitable Agitation in the Fan; insomuch, that if I only see the 
Fan of a disciplin'd Lady, I know very well whether she laughs, 
frowns, or blushes. I have seen a F'an so very angry, that it 
would have been dangerous for the absent Lover who provoked 
it to have come within the Wind of it; and at other Times so 
very languishing, that I have been glad for the Lady's Sake 
the Lover was at a sufficient Distance from it. I need not add, 
that a Fan is either a Prude or Coquet, according to the Nature 
of the Person who bears it. To conclude my Letter, I must 
acquaint you that I have from my own Observations compiled 
a little Treatise for the Use of my Scholars, entituled the Pas¬ 
sions of the Fan; which I will communicate to you, if you 
think it may be of Use to the Publick. I shall have a general • 



3i6 1 he spectator No. 102. Wednesday, June 2y,i’jii 

Review on Thursday next; to which you shall be very welcome 
if you will honour it with your Presence. 

/ am, &c. 

P.S. I teach young Gentlemen the whole Art of Gallanting 
a Fan. 

N. B. I have several little plain Fans made for this Use, to 
avoid Expence.’ L 


No. 103. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, June 28. 

. . . Sihi quivis 

Speret idem, sudet multum frustraque lahoret 

Ausus idem . . . —Hor. 

My Friend the Divine having been used with Words of Com- 
plaisance (which he thinks could be properly applied to no one 
living, and I think could be only spoken of him, and that in his 
Absence) was so extreamly offended with the excessive way of 
speaking Civilities among us, that he made a Discourse against 
it at the Club; which he concluded with this Remark, that he 
had not heard one Compliment made in our Society since its 
Commencement. Every one was pleased with his Conclusion; 
and as each knew his good Will to the rest, he was convinced 
that the many Professions of Kindness and Service, which we 
ordinarily meet with, are not natural where the Heart is well 
inclined; but are a Prostitution of Speech, seldom intended to 
mean Any Part of what they exj^ress, never to mean All they 
express. Our Reverend Friend, upon this Topick, pointed 
to us two or tliree Paragraphs on this Subject in the first 
Sermon of the first Volume of the late Arclx-Bishop’s Post¬ 
humous Works. I do not know that I ever read any thing 
that pleased me more; and as it is the Praise of Longinus, that 
he speaks of the Sublime in a Stile suitable to it, so one may say 
of this Author upon Sincerity, that he abhors any Pomp of 
Rhetorick on this Occasion, and treats it with a more than 
ordinary Simplicity, at once to be a Preacher and an Example. 
With what Command of himself does he lay before us, in the 
Language and Temper of his Profession, a Fault, which by the 
least Liberty and Warmth of Expression would be the most 
lively Wit and Satyr? But his Heart was better disposed, 
and the good Man chastised the great Wit in such a manner, 
that he was able to speak as’follows. 

*. . . Amongst too many other Instances of the great 



No. 103. Thursday, June 28, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 317 

Corruption and Degeneracy of the Age wherein we live, the 
great and general want of Sincerity in Conversation is none 
of the least. The World is grown so full of Dissimulation and 
Compliment, that Men's Words are hardly any Signification 
of their Thoughts; and if any Man measure his Words by his 
Heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not express more 
Kindness to every Man, than Men usually have for any Man, 
he can hardly escape the Censure of want of Breeding. The old 
English Plainness and Sincerity, that generous Integrity of 
Nature, and Honesty of Disposition, which always argues true 
Greatness of Mind, and is usually accompany’d with undaunted 
Courage and Resolution, is in a great measure lost amongst us: 
There hath been a long Endeavour to transform us into Foreign 
Manners and Fashions, and to bring us to a servile Imitation 
of none of the best of our Neighbours, in some of the worst of 
their Qualities. The Dialect of Conversation is now-a-days so 
swell’d with Vanity and Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may 
say) of Expressions of Kindness and Respect, that if a Man that 
Uved an Age or two ago should return into the World again, he 
would really want a Dictionary to help him to understand his 
own Language, and to know the true intrinsick Value of the 
Phrase in Fashion, and wou’d hardly at first believe at what 
a low Rate the highest Strains and Expressions of Kindness 
imaginable do commonly pass in current Payment; and when 
he shou’d come to understand it, it wou'd be a great while 
before he could bring himself with a good Countenance and a 
good Conscience to converse with Men upon equal Terms, and 
in their own way. 

And in truth it is hard to say, whether it should more pro¬ 
voke our Contempt or our Pity, to hear what solemn Expres¬ 
sions of Respect and Kindness will pass between Men, almost 
upon no Occasion; how great Honour and Esteem they will 
declare for one whom perhaps they never saw before, and how 
entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his Service and 
Interest, for no Reason; how infinitely and eternally oblig’d to 
him, for no Benefit; and how extreamly they will be concern’d 
for him, yea and afflicted too, for no Cause. I know it is said, 
in Justification of this hollow kind of Conversation, that there 
is no Harm, no real Deceit in Compliment, but the matter is 
well enough, so long as we understand one another: (S* Verba 
valent ut Numnii, Words are like Money) and when the current 
Value of them is generally understood, no Man is cheated by 
them. This is something, if such Words were any thing; but 
being brought into the Accompt, they are meer Cyphers. 
However it is still a just Matter of Complaint, that Sincerity 
ajid Plainness are out of Fashion, and that our Language is 



3i8 the spectator No. 103. Thursday, June 28, 1711 

running into a Lie; that Men have almost quite perverted the 
use of Speech, and made Words to signify nothing; that the 
greatest part of the Conversation of Mankind, is little else but 
driving a Trade of Dissimulation; insomuch that it would make 
a Man heartily sick and weary of the World, to see the little 
Sincerity that is in Use and Practice among Men.’ 

When the Vice is placed in this contemptible T.ight, he argues 
unanswerably against it, in Words and Thoughts so natural, 
that any Man who reads them would imagine he himself could 
have been the Author of them. 

* If the Show of any thing be good for any thing, 1 am sure 
Sincerity is better; for why does any Man dissemble, or seem 
to be that which he is not, but because he thinks it good to 
have such a Quality as he pretends to? For to counterfeit 
and dissemble, is to put on the Appearance of some real 
Excellency. Now the best Way in the World to seem to be 
any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be. Besides, 
that it is many times as troublesome to make good the Pre¬ 
tence of a good Quality, as to have it; and if a Man have it not, 
it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it; and then all his 
Pains and Labour to seem to have it, is lost.' 

In another Part of the same Discourse he goes on to shew, 
that all Artifice must naturally tend to the Disappointment of 
him that practises it. 

' Whatsoever Convenience may be thought to be in Falshood 
and Dissimulation, it is soon over; but the Inconvenience of it 
is perpetual, because it brings a Man under an everlasting 
Jealousie and Suspicion, so that he is not believ’d when he 
speaks Truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means honestly: 
When a Man hath once forfeited the Reputation of his In¬ 
tegrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then serve his turn, 
neither Truth nor Falshood.' R 


No. 104. 

[STEELE.] Friday, June 29. 

. . . Qualis equos Threissa fatigat 
Harpalyce . . .—Virg. 

It would be a noble Improvement, or rather a Recovery of 
what we call good Breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst 
us for agreeable which was the least Transgression against that 
Rule of Life called Decoru^l, or a Regard to Decency. This 
would command the Respect of Mankind, because it carries in 
it Deference to their good Opinion; as Humility lodged in a 
worthy Mind, is always attended with a certain Homage, 



No, 104. Friday, June 29, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 319 

which no haughty Soul, with all the Arts imaginable, will ever 
be able to purchase. Tully says. Virtue and Decency are so 
nearly related, that it is difficult to separate them from each 
other but in our Imagination. As the Beauty of the Body 
always accompanies the Health of it, so certainly is Decency 
concomitant to Virtue: As Beauty of Body, with an agreeable 
Carriage, pleases the Eye, and that Pleasure consists in that 
we observe all the Parts with a certain Elegance are pro¬ 
portioned to each other; so does Decency of Behaviour which 
appears in our Lives, obtain the Approbation of all with whom 
we converse, from the Order, Constancy, and Moderation of our 
Words and Actions. This flows from the Reverence we bear 
towards every good Man, and to the World in general; for to 
be negligent of what any one thinks of you, does not only shew 
you arrogant but abandoned. In all these Considerations we 
are to distinguish how one Virtue differs from another: As it is 
the Part of Justice never to do Violence, it is of Modesty never 
to commit Offence. In this last Particular lies the whole Force 
of what is called Decency; to this Purpose that excellent 
Moralist abovementioncd talks of Decency; but this Quality 
is more easily comprehended by an ordinary Capacity, than 
expressed with all his Eloquence. This Decency of Behaviour 
is generally transgressed among all Orders of Men; nay, the 
very Women, tho' themselves created as it were for Ornament, 
are often very much mistaken in this ornamental Part of Life. 
It would methinks be a short Rule for Behaviour, if every 
young Lady in her Dress, Words, and Actions were only to 
recommend her self as a Sister, Daughter, or Wife, and make 
her self the more esteemed in one of those Characters. The 
Care of themselves, with regard to the Families in which 
Women are bom, is the best Motive for their being courted 
to come into the Alliance of other Houses. Nothing can 
promote this End more than a strict Preservation of Decency. 
I should be glad if a certain Equestrian Order of Ladies, some 
of whom one meets in an Evening at every Outlet of the Town, 
would take this Subject into their serious Consideration: In 
Order thereunto the following Letter may not be wholly un¬ 
worthy their Perusal. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

Going lately to take the Air in one of the most beautiful 
Evenings this Season has produced; as I was admiring the 
Serenity of the Sky, the lively Colours of the Fields, and the 
Variety of the Landskip every Way around me, my Eyes were 
suddenly call’d off from these inanimate Objects by a little 
Party of Horsemen I saw passing the Road. The greater 

I—*L 184 



320 THE SPECTATOR No. 104. Friday, June 29, 1711 

Part of them escap’d my particular Observation, by reason 
that my whole Attention was fix’d on a very fair Youth who 
rode in the Midst of them, and seemed to have been dress’d 
by some Description in a Romance. His Features, Complexion, 
and Habit had a remarkable Effeminacy, and a certain lan¬ 
guishing Vanity appear’d in his Air: His Hair, well curl'd and 
powder'd, hung to a considerable Length on his Shoulders, and 
was wantonly ty’d, as if by the Hands of his Mistress, in a 
Scarlet Ribbon, which play’d like a Streamer behind him: He 
had a Coat and Wastcoat of blue Camlet trimm’d and em¬ 
broider'd with Silver: a Cravat of the finest Lace; and wore, in 
a smart Cock, a little Beaver Hat edg’d with Silver, and made 
more sprightly by a Feather. His Horse too, which was a 
Pacer, was adorn'd after the same airy Manner, and seem'd 
to share in the Vanity of the Rider. As I was pitying the 
Luxury of this young Person, who appear’d to me to have been 
educated only as an Object of Sight, I perceiv’d on my nearer 
Approach, and as I turn’d my Eyes downward, a Part of the 
Equipage I had not observ'd before, which was a Petticoat of 
the same with the Coat and Wastcoat. After this Discovery, I 
look'd again on the Face of the fair Amazon who had thus 
deceiv'd me, and thought those Features which had before 
offended me by their Softness, were now strengthen'd into as 
improper a Boldness; and tho’ her Eyes, Nose, and Mouth 
seem'd to be formed with perfect Symmetry, I am not certain 
whether she, who in Appearance was a very handsome Youth, 
may not be in Reality a very indifferent Woman. 

There is an Objection which naturally presents it self against 
these occasional Perplexities and Mixtures of Dress, which is, 
that they seem to break in upon that Propriety and Distinction 
of Appearance in which the Beauty of different Characters is 
preserv'd; and if they shou'd be more frequent than they are 
at present, wou’d look like turning our publick Assembhes 
into a general Masquerade. The Model of this Amazonian 
Hunting-habit for Ladies, was, as I take it, first imported from 
France, and well enough expresses the Gayety of a People who 
are taught to do any thing so it be with an Assurance; but I 
cannot help thinking it fits awkardly yet on our English 
Modesty. I'he Petticoat is a kind of Incumberance upon it; 
and if the Amazons should think fit to go on in this Plunder 
of our Sex’s Ornaments, they ought to add to their Spoils, and 
complete their Triumph over us, by wearing the Breeches. 

If it be natural to contract insensibly the Manners of those 
we imitate, the Ladies who are pleas’d with assuming our 
Dresses will do us more Honour than we deserve, but they will 
do it at their own Expence. Wliy should the lovely Camilla 



No. 104. Friday, June 29, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 321 

deceive us in more Shapes than her own, and allect to be 
represented in her Picture with a Gun and a Spaniel; while her 
elder Brother, the Heir of a worthy Family, is drawn in Silks 
like his Sister? The Dress and Air of a Man are not well to 
be divided; and those who would not be content with the Latter 
ought never to think of assuming the Former. There is so 
large a Portion of natural Agreeableness among the fair Sex 
of our Island, that they seem betray'd into these romantick 
Habits without having the same Occasion for them with their 
Inventors: All that needs to be dt^sir'd of them is, that they 
wou’d be themselves, that is, what Nature designed them: and to 
see their Mistake when they depart from this, let them look 
upon a Man who affects the Softness and Effeminacy of a 
Woman, to learn how their Sex must appear to us when 
approaching to the Resemblance of a Man. 

I am. 

Sir, 

T Your Most Humble Servant.' 


No. 105. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, June 30. 

... Id arbitror 

Adprime in vita esse utile, ut nequid nimis. —Ter. Andr. 

My Friend Will. Honeycomb values himself very much upon 
what he calls the Knowledge of Mankind, which has cost him 
many Disa.sters in his Youth; for Will, reckons every Mis¬ 
fortune that he has met with among the Women, and every 
Rencounter among the Men, as Parts of his Education, and 
fancies he should never have been the Man he is, had not he 
broke Windows, knocked down Constables, disturbed honest 
People with his Midnight Serenades, and beat up a lewd 
Woman’s Quarters, when he was a young Fellow. The en¬ 
gaging in Adventures of this nature. Will, calls the studying 
of Mankind; and terms this Knowledge of the Town, the 
Knowledge of the World. Will, ingenuously confesses, that 
for half his Life his Head ached every Morning with reading of 
Men over-night; and at present comforts himself under certain 
Pains which he endures from time to time, that without them 
he could not have been acquainted with the Gallantries of the 
Age. This Will, looks upon as the Learning of a Gentleman, 
and regards all other kinds of Science as the Accomplishments 
of one whom he calls a Scholar, a Bookish Man, or a Philosopher. 

For these Reasons Will, shines in mixed Company, where he 
has the Discretion not to go out of his Depth, and has often 



322 THE SPECTATOR No. 105. Saturday, June 30, 1711 

certain way of making his real Ignorance appear a seeming one. 
Our Club however has frequently caught him tripping, at which 
times they never spare him. For as Will, often insults us with 
the Knowledge of the Town, we sometimes take our revenge 
upon him by our Knowledge of Books. 

He was last Week producing two or three Letters which he 
writ in his Youth to a Coquet Lady. The Raillery of them was 
natural, and well enough for a meer Man of the Town; but, 
very unluckily, several of the Words were wrong spelt. Will. 
laught this off at first as well as he could, but finding himself 
pushed on all sides, and especially by the Templer, he told us, 
with a little Passion, that he never liked Pedantry in Spelling, 
and that he spelt like a Gentleman, and not like a Scholar: 
Upon this Will, had Recourse to his old Topick of shewing 
the narrow Spiritedness, the Pride, and Ignorance of Pedants; 
which he carried so far, that upon my retiring to my Lodgings, 
I could not forbear throwing together such Reflections as 
occurred to me upon that Subject. 

A Man who has been brought up among Books, and is able 
to talk of nothing else, is a very indifferent Companion, and 
what we call a Pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the 
Title, and give it every one that does not know how to think 
out of his Profession, and particular way of Life. 

What is a greater Pedant than a meer Man of the Town? 
Barr him the Play-houses, a Catalogue of the reigning Beauties, 
and an Account of a few fashionable Distempers that have 
befallen him, and you strike him Dumb. How many a pretty 
Gentleman's Knowledge lies all within the Verge of the Court? 
He will tell you the Names of the Principal Favourites, repeat 
the shrewd Sayings of a Man of Quality, whisper an Intreague 
that is not yet blown upon by common Fame; or, if the Sphere 
of his Observations is a little larger than ordinary, will perhaps 
enter into all the Incidents, Turns, and Revolutions in a Game 
of Ombre. When he has gone thus far he has shown you the 
whole Circle of his Accomplishments, his Parts are drained 
and he is disabled from any farther Conversation. What are 
these but rank Pedants ? and yet these are the Men who value 
themselves most on their Exemption from the Pedantry of 
Colleges. 

I might here mention the Military Pedant, who always talks 
in a Camp, and is storming Towns, making Lodgments, and 
fighting Battels from one end of the Year to the other. Every 
thing he speaks smells of Gunpowder; if you take away his 
ArtiUery from him, he has not a Word to say for himseii. I 
might likewise mention the Law Pedant, that is perpetually 
putting Cases, repeating the Transactions of Westminster-Hall, 



No. 105- Saturdayt June 1711 THE SPECTATOR 323 

wrangling with you upon the most indifferent Circumstances of 
Life, and not to be convinced of the Distance of a Place, or of 
the most trivial Point in Conversation, but by dint of Argu¬ 
ment. The State-Pedant is wrapt up in News, and lost in 
Pohticks. If you mention either of the Kings of Spain or 
Poland, he talks very notably; but if you go out of the Gazette, 
you drop him. In short, a meer Courtier, a meer Soldier, a 
meer Scholar, a meer any thing, is an insipid Pedantick Char¬ 
acter, and equally ridiculous. 

Of all the Species of Pedants, which I have mentioned, the 
Book-Pedant is much the most supportable; he has at least an 
exercised Understanding, and a Head which is full though 
confused, so that a Man who converses with him may often 
receive from him hints of things that are worth knowing, and 
what he may possibly turn to his own Advantage, tho' they 
are of little use to the Owner. The worst kind of Pedants 
among Learned Men, are such as are naturally endued with a 
very small Share of common Sense, and have read a great 
number of Books without Taste or Distinction. 

The Truth of it is, Learning, like Travelling, and all other 
Methods of Improvement, as it finishes good Sense, so it makes 
a silly Man ten thousand times more insufferable, by supplying 
variety of Matter to his Impertinence, and giving him an 
Opportunity of abounding in Absurdities. 

Shallow Pedants cry up one another much more than Men 
of solid and useful Learning. To read the Titles they give an 
Editor, or Collator of a Manuscript, you would take him for the 
Glory of the Common-Wealth of Letters, and the Wonder of 
his Age; when perhaps upon Examination you find that he has 
only Rectify'd a Greek Particle, or laid out a whole Sentence in 
proper Commas. 

They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of their Praises, 
that they may keep one another in Countenance; and it is no 
wonder if a great deal of Knowledge, which is not capable of 
making a Man Wise, has a natural Tendency to make him 
Vain and Arrogant. L 


No. 106. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, July 2. 

. . . Hinc tibi copia 
Manabit ad plenum benigno 

Ruris honorum opulenta cornu .— Hor. 

Having often received an Invitation from my Friend Sir 
Roger de Coverly to pass away a Month with him in the 



324 THE SPECTATOR No. io6. Monday, July 2, 1711 

Country, I last Week accompanied him thither, and am settled 
with him for some Time at his Country-house, where I intend to 
form several of my ensuing Speculations. Sir Roger, who is 
very well acquainted v/ith my Humour, lets me rise and go to 
Bed when I please, dine at his own Table or in my Chamber as 
I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be 
merry. When the Gentlemen of the Country come to see him, 
he only shews me at a Distance: As I have been walking in his 
Fields I have observed them stealing a Sight of me over an 
Hedge, and have heard the Knight desiring them not to let me 
see them, for that I hated to be stared at. 

I am the more at Ease in Sir Roger’s Family, because it 
consists of sober and staid Persons; for as the Knight is the 
best Master in the World, he seldom changes his Servants; and 
as he is beloved by all about him, his Servants never care for 
leaving him: By this Means his Domesticks are all in Years, 
and grown old with their Master. You would take his Valet de 
Chambre for his Brother, his Butler is gray-hcaded, his Groom 
is one of the gravest Men that I have ever seen, and his Coach¬ 
man has the Looks of a Privy-Counsellor. You see the Good¬ 
ness of the Master even in the old House-dog, and in a gray 
Pad that is kept in the Stable with great Care and Tenderness 
out of Regard to his past Services, tho' he has been useless for 
several Years. 

I could not but observe with a great deal of Pleasure the 
Joy that appeared in the Countenances of these ancient 
Domesticks upon my Friend’s Arrival at his Country-Seat. 
Some of them could not refrain from Tears at the Sight of 
their old Master; every one of them press’d forward to do some¬ 
thing for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not em¬ 
ployed. At the same Time the good old Knight, with a 
Mixture of the Father and the Master of the Family, tempered 
the Enquiries after his own Affairs with several kind Questions 
relating to themselves. This Humanity and Good-nature 
engages every Body to him, so that when he is pleasant upon 
any of them, all his Family are in good Humour, and none so 
much as the Person whom he diverts himself with: On the 
Contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any Infirmity of old Age, it 
is easy for a Stander-by to observe a secret Concern in the 
Looks of all his Servants. 

My worthy P'riend has put me under the particular Care of 
his Butler, who is a very prudent Man, and, as well as the rest 
of his Fellow-Servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, 
because they have often heard their Master talk of me as of his 
particular Friend. 

My chief Companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in 



No. io6. Monday, July 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 325 

the Woods or the Fields, is a very venerable Man who is ever 
with Sir Roger, and has lived at his House in the Nature of a 
Chaplain above thirty Years. This Cientleman is a Person of 
good Sense and some Learning, of a very regular Life and 
obliging Conversation: He heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows 
that he is very much in the old Knight’s Esteem; so that he 
lives in the Family rather as a Isolation than a Dependant. 

I have observed in several of my Papers, that my Friend 
Sir Roger, amidst all his good Qualities, is something of an 
Humourist; and that his Virtues, as well as Imperfections, are 
as it were tinged by a certain Extravagance, which makes them 
particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other 
Men. This Cast of Mind, as it is generally very innocent in it 
self, so it renders his Conversation highly agreeable, and more 
delightful than the same Degree of Sense and Virtue would 
appear in their common and ordinary Colours. As I was 
walking with him last Night, he ask'd me how I liked the good 
Man whom I have just now mentioned ? and without staying 
for my Answer, told me. That he was afraid of being insulted 
with Latin and Greek at his own Table; for which Reason, he 
desired a particular Friend of his at the University to find him 
out a Clergyman rather of plain Sense than much Learning, of 
a good Aspect, a clear Voice, a sociable Temper, and, if pos¬ 
sible, a Man that understood a little of Back-Gammon. ‘My 
Friend,' says Sir Roger, ‘found me out this Gentleman, who, 
besides the Endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a 
good Scholar though he does not shew it. I have given him 
the Parsonage of the Parish; and because I know his Value, 
have settled upon him a good Annuity for Life. If he out¬ 
lives me, he shall find that he was higher in my Esteem than 
perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty 
Years; and though he does not know I have taken Notice of it, 
has never in all that Time asked any thing of me for himself, 
tho’ he is every Day solliciting me for something in Behalf of 
one or other of my Tenants his Parishioners. There has not 
been a Law-Suit in the Parish since he has lived among them: 
If any Dispute arises, they apply themselves to him for the 
Decision; if they do not acquiesce in his Judgment, which I 
think never happened above once, or twice at most, they appeal 
to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a Present 
of all the good Sermons which have been printed in English, 
and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce 
one of them in the Pulpit. Accordingly, he has digested them 
into such a Series, that they follow one another naturally, and 
make a continued System of practical Divinity.' 

As Sir Roger was going on in his Story, the Gentleman we 



326 THE SPECTATOR No. loC. Monday, July 2, 1711 

were talking of came up to us; and upon the Knight's asking 
him who preached to Morrow (for it was Saturday Night) told 
us, the Bishop of St. Asaph in the Morning, and Doctor South 
in the Afternoon. He then shewed us his List of Preachers for 
the whole Year, where I saw with a great deal of Pleasure 
Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Doctor Barrow, Doc¬ 
tor Calamy, with several living Authors who have published 
Discourses of Practical Divinity. I no sooner saw this vener¬ 
able Man in the Pulpit, but I very much approved of my 
Friend's insisting upon the Qualifications of a good Aspect 
and a clear Voice; for I was so charmed with the Gracefulness 
of his Figure and Delivery, as well as with the Discourses he 
pronounced, that I think I never passed any Time more to my 
Satisfaction. A Sermon repeated after this Manner, is like the 
Composition of a Poet in the Mouth of a graceful Actor. 

I could heartily wish that more of our Country-Clergy 
would follow this Example; and instead of wasting their Spirits 
in laborious Compositions of their own, would endeavour after 
a handsome Elocution, and all those other Talents that are 
projjer to enforce what has been penned by greater Masters. 
This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more 
edifying to the People. L 


No. 107. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday. July 3. 

Aesopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici, 

Servumque coUocarunt aeterna in basi, 

Patere honoris scirent ut cuncti viam. —Phaed. 

The Reception, manner of Attendance, undisturb'd Freedom 
and Quiet, which I meet with here in the Country, has con¬ 
firmed me in the Opinion I always had, that the general Cor¬ 
ruption of Manners in Servants is owing to the Conduct of 
Masters. The Aspect of evexy one in the Family carries so much 
Satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy Lot which 
has befallen him in being a Member of it. There is one Par¬ 
ticular which I have seldom seen but at Sir Roger's ; it is usual 
in all other Places, that Servants fly from the parts of the 
House through which their Master is passing; on the contrary, 
here they industriously place themselves in his way; and it is 
on both sides, as it were, understood as a Visit when the Ser¬ 
vants appear without calling* This proceeds from the Humane 
and equal Temper of the Man of the House, who also perfectly 
well knows how to enjoy a great Estate, with such Oeconomy 
as ever to be much before Hand. This makes his own Mind 



No. 107. Tuesday, July 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 327 

untroubled, and consequently unapt to vent peevish Expres¬ 
sions, or give passionate or inconsistent Orders to those about 
him. Thus Respect and Love go together; and a certain 
Chearfulness in Performance of their Duty, is the particular 
Distinction of the lower part of this Family. When a Ser¬ 
vant is called before his Master, he does not come with an 
Expectation to hear himself rated for some trivial Fault, 
threatend to be stripp’d, or used with any other unbecoming 
Language, which mean Masters often give to worthy Servants; 
but it is often to know, what Road he took that he came so 
readily back according to Order: whether he passed by such a 
Ground; if the old Man who rents it is in good Health; or 
whether he gave Sir Roger's Love to him, or the like. 

A Man who preserves a Respect, founded on his Benevolence 
to his Dependants, lives rather like a Prince than a Master in 
his Family; his Orders are received as Favours, rather than 
Duties; and the Distinction of approaching him, is part of the 
Reward for executing what is commanded by him. 

There is another Circumastance in which my Friend excells 
in his Management, which is the manner of rewarding his 
Servants: He has ever been of Opinion, that giving his cast 
Cloaths to be worn by Valets has a very ill Effect upon little 
Minds, and creates a silly Sense of Equality between the Par¬ 
ties, in Persons affected only with outward things. I have 
heard him often pleasant on this Occasion, and describe a 
young Gentleman abusing his Man in that Coat, which a 
Month or two before was the most pleasing Distinction he was 
conscious of in himself. He would turn his Discourse still more 
pleasantly upon the Ladies’ Bounties of this kind; and I have 
heard him say he knew a fine Woman, who distributed Re¬ 
wards and Punishments in giving becoming or unbecoming 
Dresses to her Maids. 

But my good Friend is above these little Instances of Good¬ 
will, in bestowing only Trifles on his Servants; a good Servant 
to him is sure of having it in his Choice very soon of being no 
Servant at all. As I before observed, he is so good an Husband, 
and knows so thoroughly that the Skill of the Purse is the 
Cardinal Virtue of this Life; I say, he knows so well that 
Frugality is the Support of Generosity, that he can often 
spare a large Fine when a Tenement falls, and give that 
Settlement to a good Servant who has a mind to go into the 
World, or make a Stranger pay the Fine to that Servant, for 
his more comfortable Maintenance, if he stays in his Service. 

A Man of Honour and Generosity considers, it would be 
miserable to himself to have no Will but that of another, tho' 
it were of the best Person breathing, and for that Reason goc^ 



328 THE SPECTATOR No. 107. Tuesday, July 3, 1711 

on as fast as he is able to put his Servants into independent 
Livelihoods. The greatest part of Sir Roger's Estate is 
tenanted by Persons who have served himself or his Ancestors. 
It was to me extrearnly pleasant to observe the Visitants from 
several parts to welcome his Arrival into the Country: and all 
the Difference that I could take notice of, between the late 
Servants who came to see him, and those who staid in the 
Family, was, that these latter were looked upon as finer 
Gentlemen and better Courtiers. 

This Manumission and f)lacing them in a way of Livelihood, 
I look upon as only what is due to a good Servant, which 
Encouragement will make his Successor be as diligent, as 
humble, and as ready as he was. There is something wonderful 
in the narrowness of those Minds, which can be pleased, and 
be barren of Bounty to those who please them. 

One might, on this occasion, recount the Sense that Great 
Persons in all Ages have had of the Merit of their Dependants, 
and the Heroick Services which Men have done their Masters 
in the Extremity of their Fortunes; and shewn, to their un¬ 
done Patrons, that Fortune was all the Difference between 
them; but as I design this my Speculation only as a gentle 
Admonition to thankless Masters, I shall not go out of the 
Occurrences of common Life, but assert it as a general Observa¬ 
tion, that I never saw, but in Sir Roger's Family, and one or 
two more, good Servants treated as they ought to be. Sir 
Roger's Kindness extends to their Children's Children, and 
this very Morning he sent his Coachman's Grandson to Pren¬ 
tice. I shall conclude this Paper with an Account of a Picture 
in his Gallery, where there are many which will deserve my 
future Observation. 

At the very upper End of this handsome Structure I saw 
the Portraiture of two Young Men standing in a River, the 
one naked the other in a Livery. The Person supported 
seemed half Dead, but still so much alive as to shew in his 
Face exquisite Joy and Love towards the other. I thought 
the fainting Figure resembled my Friend Sir Roger; and look¬ 
ing at the Butler, who stood by me, for an Account of it, he 
informed me that the Person in the Livery was a Servant of 
Sir Roger's, who stood on the Shore while his Master was 
Swimming, and observing him taken with some sudden Illness, 
and sink under Water, jumped in and saved him. He told me 
Sir Roger took off the Dress he was in as soon as he came home, 
and by a Great Bounty at that time, follow'd by his Favour ever 
since, had made him Master of that pretty Seat which we saw 
at a distance as we came to this House. I remember'd indeed 
Sir Roger said there lived a very worthy Gentleman, to whom 



No. loj. Tuesday, July IT\i THE SPECTATOR 329 

he was highly obliged, without mentioning any thing further. 
Upon my looking a little dissatisfyed at some part of the 
Picture, my Attendant informed me, that it was against Sir 
Roger’s Will, and at the earnest Request of the Gentleman 
himself, that he was Drawn in the Habit in which he had saved 
his Master. R 


No. 108. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, July 4. 

Gratis anhelans, mutta agendo nihil agens. —Phaed. 

As I was Yesterday Morning walking with Sir Roger before 
his House, a Country-Fellow brought him a huge Fish, which, 
he told him, Mr. William Wimble had caught that very Morn¬ 
ing; and that he presented it, with his Service, to him, and 
intended to come and dine with him. At the same Time he 
delivered a Letter, which my Friend read to me as soon as the 
Messenger left him. 

'Sir Roger, 

I Desire you to accept of a Jack, which is the best I have 
caught this Season. I intend to come and stay with you a 
Week, and see how the Perch bite in the Black River. I observed, 
with some Concern, the last Time I saw you upon the Bowling- 
Green, that your Whip wanted a Lash to it: I will bring half 
a Dozen with me that I twisted last Week, which I hope will 
serve you all the Time you are in the Country. I have not been 
out of the Saddle for six Days last past, having been at Eaton 
with Sir John’s eldest Son. He takes to his Learning hugely. 

I am, 

Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 

Will Wimble.’ 

This extraordinary Letter, and Message that accompanied 
it, made me very curious to know the Character and Quality 
of the Gentleman who sent them; which I found to be as 
follows; Will. Wimble is younger Brother to a Baronet, and 
descended of the ancient Family of the Wimbles. He is now 
between Forty and Fifty; but being bred to no Business and 
born to no Estate, he generally lives with his elder Brother as 
Superintendant of his Game. He hunts a Pack of Dogs better 
than any Man in the Country, and is very famous for find¬ 
ing out a Hare. He is extremely well versed in all the little 



330 THE SPECTATOR No. loS. Wednesday, July lyii 

Handicrafts of an idle Man; He makes a May-^y to a Miracle; 
and furnishes the whole Country with Angle-Rods. As he is a 
good-natur'd officious Fellow, and very much esteemed upon 
Account of his Family, he is a welcome Guest at every House, 
and keeps up a good Correspondence among all the Gentle¬ 
men about him. He carries a Tulip-Root in his Pocket from 
one to another, or exchanges a Puppy between a couple of 
Friends that live perhaps in the opposite Sides of the County. 
Will, is a particular Favourite of all the young Heirs, whom he 
frequently obliges with a Net that he has weaved, or a Setting- 
dog that he has made himself; He now and then presents a 
Pair of Garters of his own knitting to their Mothers or Sisters; 
and raises a great deal of Mirth among them, by enquiring as 
often as he meets them how they wear? These Gentleman-like 
Manufactures and obliging little Humours, make Will, the 
Darling of the Country. 

Sir Roger was proceeding in the Character of him, when 
we saw him make up to us, with two or three Hazle-twigs in 
his Hand that he had cut in Sir Roger's Woods, as he came 
through them, in his Way to the House. I was very much 
pleased to observe on one Side the hearty and sincere Welcome 
with which Sir Roger received him, and on the other the secret 
Joy which his Guest discovered at Sight of the good old Knight. 
After the first Salutes were over. Will, desired Sir Roger to 
lend him one of his Servants to carry a Set of Shuttlecocks he 
had with him in a little Box to a Lady that liv'd about a Mile 
off, to whom it seems he had promised such a Present for above 
this half Year. Sir Roger’s Back was no sooner turn’d, but 
honest Will, began to tell me of a large Cock-Pheasant that he 
had sprung in one of the neighbouring Woods, with two or 
three other Adventures of the same Nature. Odd and un¬ 
common Characters are the Game that I look for, and most 
delight in; for which Reason I was as much pleased with the 
Novelty of the Person that talked to me, as he could be for his 
Life with the springing of a Pheasant, and therefore listned to 
him with more than ordinary Attention. 

In the Midst of his Discourse the Bell rung to Dinner, where 
the Gentleman I have been speaking of had the Pleasure of 
seeing the huge Jack, he had caught, served up for the first 
Dish in a most sumptuous Manner. Upon our sitting down to 
it he gave us a long Account how he had hooked it, played with 
it, foiled it, and at length drew it out upon the Bank, with 
several other Particulars that lasted all the first Course. A 
Dish of Wild-fowl that came afterwards furnished Conversa¬ 
tion for the rest of the Dinner, which concluded with a late 
Invention of WUVb for improving the Quail Pipe. 



No. io8. Wednesday, July 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 331 

Upon withdrawing into my Room after Dinner, I was 
secretly touched with Compassion towards the honest Gentle¬ 
man that had dined with us; and could not but consider with 
a great deal of Concern, how so good an Heart and such busy 
Hands were wholly employed in Trifles; that so much Humanity 
should be so little beneficial to others, and so much Industry 
so little advantageous to himself. The same Temper of Mind 
and Application to Affairs might have recommended him to 
the publick Esteem, and have raised his Fortune in another 
Station of Life. What Good to his Country or himself might 
not a Trader or Merchant have done with such useful tho' 
ordinary Qualifications? 

Will. Wimble's is the Case of many a younger Brother of a 
great Family, who had rather see their Children starve like 
Gentlemen, than thrive in a Trade or Profession that is be¬ 
neath their Quality. This Humour fills several Parts of Europe 
with Pride and Beggary. It is the Happiness of a trading 
Nation, like ours, that the younger Sons, tho’ uncapable of any 
liberal Art or Profession, may be placed in such a Way of 
Life, as may perhaps enable them to vie with the best of 
their Family: Accordingly we find several Citizens that were 
launched into the World with narrow Fortunes, rising by an 
honest Industry to greater Estates than those of their elder 
Brothers. It is not improbable but Will, was formerly tried at 
Divinity, Law, or Physick; and that finding his Genius did 
not lie that Way, his Parents gave him up at length to his own 
Inventions: But certainly, however improper he might have 
been for Studies of a higher Nature, he was perfectly well 
turned for the Occupations of Trade and Commerce. As I 
think this is a Point which cannot be too much inculcated, I 
shall desire my Reader to compare what I have here written 
with what I have said in my Twenty first Speculation. L 


No. 109. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, July 5. 

. . . Abnortnis sapiens . . .—Ilor. 

I WAS this Morning walking in the Gallery, when Sir Roger 
enter'd at the end opposite to me, and advancing towards me, 
said, he was glad to meet me among his Relations the De 
CovERLEYS, and hoped I liked the Conversation of so much 
good Company, who were as silent as my self. I knew he 
alluded to the Pictures, and as he is a Gentleman who does 
not a httle value himself upon his ancient Descent, I expected 



332 THE SPECTATOR No. log. Thursday, July $, lyii 

he would give me some Account of them. We were now arrived 
at the upper End of the Gallery, when the Knight faced to¬ 
wards one of the Pictures, and as we stood before it, he entered 
into the Matter, after his blunt way of saying things, as they 
occur to his Imagination, without regular Introduction, or Care 
to preserve the Appearance of Chain of Thought. 

‘It is,’ said he, ‘worth while to consider the Force of Dress; 
and how the Persons of one Age differ from those of another, 
merely by that only. One may observe also that the General 
Fashion of one Age has been follow'd by one particular Set of 
People in another, and by them preserved from one Genera¬ 
tion to another. 'Thus the vast Jetting Coat and small Bonnet, 
which was the Habit in Harry the Seventh’s time, is kept on in 
the Yeomen of the Guard; not without a good and Politick 
View, because they look a Foot taller, and a Foot and an half 
broader; Besides, that the Cap leaves the Face expanded, and 
consequently more Terrible, and fitter to stand at the Entrance 
of Palaces. 

This Predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this 
Manner, and his Cheeks would be no larger than mine were 
he in a Hat as I am. He was the last Man that won a 
Prize in the Tilt-Yard (which is now a Common Street before 
Whitehall). You see the broken Lance that lyes there by his 
right Foot: he shivered that Lance of his Adversary all to 
pieces: and bearing himself, look you Sir, in this manner, at 
the same time he came within the Target of the Gentleman 
who rode again him, and taking him with incredible Force 
before him on the Pummel of his Saddle, he in that manner rid 
the Turnament over, with an Air that shewed he did it rather 
to perform the Rule of the Lists, than Expose his Enemy; 
however, it appeared he knew how to make use of a Victory, 
and with a gentle Trot he marched up to a Gallery where their 
Mistress sat (for they were Rivals) and let him down with 
laudable Cx)urtesy and pardonable Insolence. I don't know 
but it might be exactly where the Coffee-house is now. 

You are to know this my Ancestor was not only of a military 
Genius but fit also for the Arts of Peace, for he play’d on the 
Base-viol as well as any Gentleman at Court; you see where his 
Viol hangs by his Basket-hilt Sword. The Action at the Tilt- 
yard you may be sure won the Fair Lady, who was a Maid of 
Honour, and the greatest Beauty of her time; here she stands, 
the next Picture. You see, Sir, my Great Great Great Grand- 
Mother has on the new-fashioned Petticoat, except that the 
Modem is gathered at the Waste; my Grandmother appears 
as if she stood in a large Drum, whereas the Ladies now walk 
as if they were in a Go-Cart. For all this Lady was bred at 



No. log. Thursday, July 5, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 333 

Court, she became an Excellent Country-Wife, she brought ten 
Children, and when I shew you the Library, you shall see in her 
own hand (allowing for the Difference of the Language) the 
best Receipt now in England both for an Hasty-Pudding and 
a Whitepot. 

If you please to fall back a little, because it is necessary to 
look at the three next Pictures at one View; these are three 
Sisters. She on the right Hand, who is so very beautiful, 
dyed a Maid; the next to her, still handsomer, had the same 
Fate, against her Will; this homely thing in the middle had both 
their Portions added to her own, and was Stolen by a neigh¬ 
bouring Gentleman, a Man of Stratagem and Resolution, for 
he poisoned three Mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down 
two Dear-stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in 
all Families: The Theft of this Romp and so much Money, was 
no great matter to our Estate. But the next Heir that pos¬ 
sessed it was this soft Gentleman, whom you see there; Observe 
the small Buttons, the little Boots, the Laces, the Slashes about 
his Cloaths, and above all the Posture he is drawn in, (which 
to be sure was his own chusing); you see he sits with one Hand 
on a Desk writing, and looking as it were another way, like an 
easie Writer, or a Sonneteer: He was one of those that had too 
much Wit to know how to live in the World; he was a Man of 
no Justice, but great good Manners; he ruined every body 
that had any thing to do with him, but never said a rude thing 
in his Life; the most indolent Person in the World, he would 
sign a Deed that passed away half his Estate with his Gloves 
on, but would not put on his Hat before a Lady if it were to 
save his Country, He is said to be the first that made Love 
by squeezing the Hand. He left the Estate with ten thousand 
Pounds Debt upon it, but however by all Hands I have been 
informed that he was every way the finest Gentleman in the 
World. That Debt lay heavy on our House for one Generation, 
but it was retrieved by a Gift from that Honest Man you see 
there, a Citizen of our Name, but nothing at all a-kin to us. 
I know Sir Andrew Freeport has said behind my Back, 
that this Man was descended from one of the ten Children of 
the Maid of Honour I shewed you above. But it was never 
made out; we winked at the thing indeed, because Mony was 
wanting at that time.' 

Here I saw my Friend a little embarrassed, and turned my 
Face to the next Portraiture. 

Sir Roger went on with his Account of the Gallery in the 
following manner. ‘This Man’ (pointing to him I look'd at) 
*I take to be the Honour of our House. Sir Humphrey de 
Coverley; he was in his Dealings as punctual as a Tradesman,^ 



334 'I'HE SPECTATOR No. 109. Thursday, July 5, 1711 

and as generous as a Gentleman. He would have thought 
himself as much undone by breaking his Word, as if it were to 
be followed by Bankruptcy. He served his Country as Knight 
of this Shire to his dying Day; He found it no easie matter to 
maintain an Integrity in his Words and Actions, even in things 
that regarded the Offices which were incumbent upon him, in 
the care of his own Affairs and Relations of Life, and therefore 
dreaded (tho’ he had great Talents) to go into Employments 
of State, where he must be exposed to the Snares of Ambition. 
Innocence of Life and great Ability were the distinguishing 
Parts of his Character; the latter, he had often observed, had 
led to the Destruction of the former, and used frequently to 
lament that Great and Good had not the same Signification. 
He was an Excellent Husbandman, but had resolved not to 
exceed such a degree of Wealth; all above it he bestowed in 
secret Bounties many Years after the Sum he aimed at for his 
own use was attained. Yet he did not slacken his Industry, 
but to a decent old Age spent the Life and Fortune which was 
superfluous to himself, in the Service of his Friends and 
Neighbours.’ 

Here we were called to Dinner, and Sir Roger ended the 
Discourse of this Gentleman, by telling me, as we followed the 
Servant, that this his Ancestor was a Brave Man, and narrowly 
escaped being killed in the Civil Wars; 'for,' said he, ‘he was 
sent out of the Field upon a private Message the Day before 
the Battle of Worcester' The Whim of narrowly escaping, by 
having been within a Day of Danger; with other Matters 
above-mentioned, mixed with good Sense, left me at a Loss 
whether I was more delighted with my Friend's Wisdom or 
Simpheity. R 


No. no. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, July 6. 

Horror uhique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent. —Virg. 

At a little Distance from Sir Roger’s House, among the Ruins 
of an old Abby, there is a long Walk of aged Elms; which are 
shot up so very high, that when one passes under them, the 
Rooks and Crows that rest upon the Tops of them seem to 
be Cawing in another Region. I am very much delighted with 
this Sort of Noise, which I consider as a kind of natural Prayer 
to that Being who supplies* the Wants of his whole Creation, 
and who, in the beautiful Language of the Psalms, feedeth the 
young Ravens that call upon him. I hke this Retirement the 



No. no. Friday, July 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 335 

better, because of an ill Report it lies under of being haunted ; 
for which Reason (as I have been told in the Family) no living 
Creature ever walks in it besides the Chaplain. My good 
Friend the Butler desired me with a very grave Face not to 
venture myself in it after Sun-set, for that one of the Footmen 
had been almost frighted out of his Wits by a Spirit that 
appeared to him in the Shape of a black Horse without an Head; 
to which he added, that about a Month ago one of the Maids 
coming home late that Way with a Pail of Milk upon her Head, 
heard such a Rustling among the Bushes that she let it fall. 

I was taking a Walk in this Place last Night between the 
Hours of Nine and Ten, and could not but fancy it one of the 
most proper Scenes in the World for a Ghost to appear in. The 
Ruins of the Abby are scattered up and down on every Side, 
and half covered with Ivy and Elder-Bushes, the Harbours of 
several solitary Birds which seldom make their Appearance till 
the Dusk of the Evening. The Place was formerly a Church¬ 
yard, and has still several Marks in it of Graves and Burying- 
Places, There is such an Eccho among the old Ruins and 
Vaults, that if you stamp but a little louder than ordinary you 
hear the Sound repeated. At the same Time the Walk of 
Elms, with the Croaking of the Ravens which from time to 
time are heard from the Tops of them, looks exceeding solemn 
and venerable. These Objects naturally raise Seriousness and 
Attention; and when Night heightens the Awfulness of the 
Place, and pours out her supernumerary Horrours upon every¬ 
thing in it, I do not at all wonder that weak Minds fill it with 
Spectres and Apparitions. 

Mr. Locke, in his Chapter of the Association of Ideas, has 
very curious Remarks to shew how by the Prejudice of Educa¬ 
tion one Idea often introduces into the Mind a whole Set that 
bear no Resemblance to one another in the Nature of things. 
Among several Examples of this Kind, he produces the follow¬ 
ing Instance. The Ideas of Goblins and Sprights have really 
no more to do with Darkness than Light: Yet let hut a foolish Maid 
inculcate these often on the Mind of a Child, and raise them there 
together, possibly he shall never be able to separate them again so 
long as he lives; but Darkness shall ever afterwards bring with it 
those frightful Ideas, and they shall be so joyned, that he can no 
more bear the one than the other. 

As I was walking in this Solitude, where the Dusk of the 
Evening conspired with so many other Occasions of Terrour, 
I observed a Cow grazing not far from me, which an Imagina¬ 
tion that was apt to startle might easily have construed into a 
black Horse without an Head: and I dare say the poor Foot¬ 
man lost his Wits up)on some such trivial Occasion. 



336 THE SPECTATOR No. no. Friday, July 6, 1711 

My Friend Sir Roger has often told me with a good deal of 
Mirth, that at his first coming to his Estate he found three 
Parts of his House altogether useless; that the best Room in it 
had the Reputation of being haunted, and by that Means was 
locked up; that Noises had been heard in his long Gallery, so 
that he could not get a Servant to enter it after eight a Clock at 
Night; that the Door of one of his Chambers was nailed up, 
because there went a Story in the Family that a Butler had 
formerly hanged himself in it; and that his Mother, who lived 
to a great Age, had shut up half the Rooms in the House, in 
which either her Husband, a Son, or Daughter had died. The 
Knight, seeing his Habitation reduced to so small a Compass, 
and himself in a Manner shut out of his own House, upon the 
Death of his Mother ordered all the Apartments to be flung 
open, and exorcised by his Chaplain, who lay in every Room 
one after another, and by that Means dissipated the Fears 
which had so long reigned in the Family. 

I should not have been thus particular upon these ridiculous 
Horrours, did I not find them so very much prevail in all Parts 
of the Country. At the same Time I think a Person who is 
thus terrify’d with the Imagination of Ghosts and Spectres 
much more reasonable, than one who contrary to the Reports 
of all Historians sacred and prophane, ancient and modern, 
and to the Traditions of all Nations, thinks the Appearance of 
Spirits fabulous and groundless: Could not I give my self up 
to-this general Testimony of Mankind, I should to the Relations 
of particular Persons who are now living, and whom I cannot 
distrust in other Matters of Fact. I might here add, that not 
only the Historians, to whom we may joyn the Poets, but like¬ 
wise the Philosophers of Antiquity have favoured this Opinion. 
Lucretius himself, though by the Course of his Philosophy he 
was obliged to maintain that the Soul did not exist separate 
from the Body, makes no Doubt of the Reality of Apparitions, 
and that Men have often appeared after their Death. This I 
think very remarkable; he was so pressed with the Matter of 
Fact which he could not have the Confidence to deny, that he 
was forced to account for it by one of the most absurd un- 
philosophical Notions that was ever started. He tells us, 
That the Surfaces of all Bodies are perpetually flying off from 
their respective Bodies, one after another; and that these 
Surfaces or thin Cases that included each other while they were 
joined in the Body like the Coats of an Onion, are sometimes 
seen entire when they are separated from it; by which Means 
we often behold the Shapes'and Shadows of Persons who are 
either dead or absent. 

I shall dismiss this Paper with a Story out of Josephus, not 



No. no. Friday, July 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 337 

so much for the Sake of the Story it self as for the moral 
Reflections with which the Author concludes it, and which I 
shall here set down in his own Words. ‘ Glaphyra the Daughter 
of King Archilaus, after the Death of her two first Husbands 
(being married to a third, who was Brother to her first Husband, 
and so passionately in. Love with her that he turn'd off his 
former Wife to make Room for this Marriage) had a very odd 
kind of Dream. She fancied that she saw her first Husband 
coming towards her, and that she embraced him with great 
Tenderness; when in the Midst of the Pleasure which she 
expressed at the Sight of him, he reproached her after the 
following Manner: Glaphyra, says he, thou has made good the 
old Saying, That Women are not to be trusted. Was not I 
the Husband of thy Virginity? Have I not Children by thee? 
How couldst thou forget our Loves so far as to enter into a 
second Marriage, and after that into a third, nay to take for 
thy Husband a Man who has so shamelessly crept into the Bed 
of his Brother? However, for the Sake of our passed Loves, 
I shall free thee from thy present Reproach, and make thee 
mine for ever. Glaphyra told this Dream to several Women of 
her Acquaintance, and died soon after. I thought this Story 
might not be impertinent in this Place, wherein I speak of those 
Kings: Besides that, the Example deserves to be taken Notice 
of, as it contains a most certain Proof of the Immortality of the 
Soul, and of Divine Providence. If any Man thinks these Facts 
incredible, let him enjoy his own Opinion to himself: but let 
him not endeavour to disturb the Belief of others, who by 
Instances of this Nature are excited to the Study of Virtue.* L 


No. III. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, July 7. 

. . . Inter silvas Academi quaerere verum. —Hor. 

The Course of my last Speculation led me insensibly into a 
Subject upon which I always meditate with great Delight, I 
mean the Immortality of the Soul. I was Yesterday walking 
alone in one of my Friend's Woods, and lost my self in it very 
agreeably, as I was running over in my Mind the several 
Arguments that establish this great Point, which is the Basis 
of Morality, and the Source of all the pleasing Hopes and secret 
Joys that can arise in the Heart of a reasonable Creature. I 
considered those several Proofs drawn. 

First, From the Nature of the Soul it self, and particularly 
its Immateriality; which, tho' not absolutely necessary to thp 



338 THE SPECTATOR No. iii. Saturday, July 7, 1711 

Eternity of its Duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a 
Demonstration. 

Secondly, Prom its Passions and Sentiments, as particularly 
from its Love of Existence, its Horrour of Annihilation, and its 
Hopes of Immortality, with that secret Satisfaction which it 
finds in the Practice of Virtue, and that Uneasiness which 
follows in it upon the Commission of Vice. 

Thirdly, From the Nature of the Supreme Being, whose 
Justice, Goodness, Wisdom and Veracity are all concerned 
in this great Point. 

But among these and other excellent Arguments for the 
Immortality of the Soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual 
Progress of the Soul to its Perfection, without a Possibility 
of ever arriving at it; which is a Hint that I do not remember 
to have seen opened and improved by others who have written 
on this Subject, tho* it seems to me to carry a great Weight 
with it. How can it enter into the Thoughts of Man, that the 
Soul, which is capable of such immense Perfections, and of 
receiving new Improvements to all Eternity, shall fall away 
into notliing almost as soon as it Is created ? Are such Abilities 
made for no Purpose ? A Brute arrives at a Point of Perfec¬ 
tion that he can never pass: In a few Years he has all the En¬ 
dowments he is capable of; and were he to live ten thousand 
more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a 
human Soul thus at a stand in her Accomplishments, were her 
Faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther Enlarge¬ 
ments, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop 
at once into a State of Annihilation. But can we believe a 
thinking Being, that is in perpetual Progress of Improvements, 
and travelling on from Perfection to Perfection, after having 
just looked abroad into the Works of its Creator, and made a 
few Discoveries of his infinite Goodness, Wisdom and Power, 
must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning 
of her Enquiries? 

A Man, considered in his present State, seems only sent into 
the World to propagate his Kind. He provides himself with a 
Successor, and immediately quits his Post to make room 
for him. 


. . . haeres 

Haeredem alierius, velut unda supervenit undam. 

He does not seem bom to enjoy Life, but to deliver it down to 
others. This is not surprizing to consider in Animals, which are 
formed for our use, and can finish their Business in a short 
Life. The Silk-worm after having spun her Task, lays her 
Eggs and dies. But a Man can never have taken in his full 



No. III. Saturday, July 1711 THE SPECTATOR 339 

measure of Knowledge, has not time to subdue his Passions, 
establish his Soul in Virtue, and come up to the Perfection of 
his Nature, before he is hurried off the Stage. Would an 
infinitely wise Being make such glorious Creatures for so mean a 
Purpose? Can he delight in the Production of such abortive 
Intelligences, such short-lived reasonable Beings? Would he 
give us Talents that are not to be exerted? Capacities that 
are never to be gratified? How can we find that Wisdom, 
which shines through all his Works, in the Formation of Man, 
without looking on this World, as only a Nursery for the next, 
and believing that the several Generations of rational Creatures, 
which rise up and disappear in such quick Successions, are only 
to receive their first Rudiments of Existence here, and after¬ 
wards to be transplanted into a more friendly Climate, where 
they may spread and flourish to all Eternity ? 

There is not, in my Opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant 
Consideration in Religion than this of the perpetual Progress 
which the Soul makes towards the Perfection of its Nature, 
without ever arriving at a Period in it. To look upon the Soul 
as going on from Strength to Strength, to consider that she is 
to shine for ever with new Accessions of Glory, and brighten to 
all Eternity; that she will be still adding Virtue to Virtue, and 
Knowledge to Knowledge; carries in it something wonderfully 
agreeable to that Ambition which is natural to the Mind of 
Man. Nay, it must be a Prospect pleasing to God himself, 
to see his Creation for ever beautifying in his Eyes, and draw¬ 
ing nearer to him, by greater degrees of Resemblance. 

Methinks this single ^nsideration, of the Progress of a finite 
Spirit to Perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all Envy in 
inferior Natures, and all Contempt in superior. That Cheru¬ 
bim, which now appears as a God to a human Soul, knows very 
well that the Period will come about in Eternity, when the 
Human Soul shall be as perfect as he himself now is: Nay 
when she shall look down upon tliat degree of Perfection, a.s 
much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the higher Nature 
still advances, and by that means preserves his Distance and 
Superiority in the Scale of Being; but he knows how high soever 
the Station is of which he stands possess'd at present, the in¬ 
ferior Nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in 
the same Degree of Glory. 

With what Astonishment and Veneration may we look into 
our own Souls, where there are such hidden Stores of Virtu© 
and Knowledge, such inexhausted Sources of Perfection? 
We know not yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter into 
the Heart of Man to conceive the Glory that will be always in 
Reserve for him . The Soul considered with its Creator, is like 



340 THE SPECTATOR No.iii. Saturday, July j, lyii 

one of those Mathematical Lines that may draw nearer to 
another for all Eternity, without a Possibility of touching it: 
And can there be a Thought so transporting, as to consider 
our selves in these perpetual Approaches to him, who is not 
only the Standard of Perfection but of Happiness! L 


No. 112. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, July 9. 

’A0a»»drous fiiv rpCyra deods, v6fi(p ojs SiaKtiraL, 

Ti/ta. . . Pyth. 


I AM always very well pleased with a Country Sunday, and 
think, if keeping holy the Seventh Day were only a human 
Institution, it would be the best Method that could have been 
thought of for the polishing and civilizing of Mankind. It is 
certain the Country-People would soon degenerate into a kind 
of Savages and Barbarians, were there not such frequent 
Returns of a stated 'J'ime, in which the whole Village meet 
together with their best Faces, and in their cleanliest Habits, 
to converse with one another upon indifferent Subjects, hear 
their Duties explained to them, and join together in Adoration 
of the supreme Being. Sunday clears away the Rust of the 
whole Week, not only as it refreshes in their Minds the Notions 
of Religion, but as it puts both the Sexes upon appearing in 
their most agreeable Forms, and exerting all such Qualities as 
are apt to give them a Figure in the Eye of the Village. A 
Country-Fellow distinguishes himself as much in the Church¬ 
yard, as a Citizen does upon the Change] the whole Parish- 
Politicks being generally discuss’d in that Place either after 
Sermon or before the Bell rings. 

My Friend Sir Roger being a good Church-man, has 
beautified the Inside of his Church with several Texts of his 
own chusing: He has likewise given a handsome Pulpit-Cloth, 
and railed in the Communion-Table at his own Expencc. He 
has often told me, that at his coming to his Estate he found his 
Parishioners very irregular; and that in order to make them 
kneel and join in the Responses, he gave every one of them a 
Hassock and a Common-prayer Book: and at the same Time 
employed an itinerant Singing-Master, who goes about the 
Country for that Purpose, to instruct them rightly in the Tunes 
of the Psalms; upon which they now very much value them¬ 
selves, and indeed out-do most of the Country Churches that 
I have ever heard. 



No. 112. Monday, July 9, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 341 

As Sir Roger is Landlord to the whole Congregation, he 
keeps them in very good Order, and will suffer no Body to sleep 
in it besides himself; for if by Chance he has been surprized into 
a short K ap at Sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up 
and looks about him, and if he sees any Body else nodding, 
either wakes them himself, or sends his Servants to them. 
Several other of the old Knight’s Particularities break out 
upon these Occasions: Sometimes he will be lengthening out a 
Verse in the Singing-Psalms, half a Minute after the rest of the 
Congregation have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased 
with the Matter of his Devotion, he pronounces A men three or 
four times to the same Prayer; and sometimes stands up when 
every Body else is upon their Knees, to count the Congrega¬ 
tion, or see if any of his Tenants are missing. 

I was Yesterday very much surprized to hear my old Friend, 
in the Midst of the Service, calling out to one John Matthews 
•to mind what he was about, and not disturb the Congregation. 
This John Matthews it seems is remarkable for being an idle 
Fellow, and at that Time was kicking his Heels for his Diver¬ 
sion. This Authority of the Knight, though exerted in that 
odd Manner which accompanies him in all Circumstances of 
Life, has a very good Effect upon the Parish, who are not polite 
enough to see any thing ridiculous in his Behaviour; besides 
that, the general good Sense and Worthiness of his Character, 
make his Friends observe these little Singularities as Foils 
that rather set off than blemish his good Qualities. 

As soon as the Sermon is finished, no Body presumes to stir 
till Sir Roger is gone out of the Church. The Knight walks 
down from his Seat in the Chancel between a double Row of 
his Tenants, that stand bowing to him on each Side; and every 
now and then enquires how such an one's Wife, or Mother, or 
Son, or Father do whom he does not see at Church; which is 
understood as a secret Reprimand to the Person that is absent. 

The Chaplain has often told me, that upon a Catechizing- 
day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a Boy that 
answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next Day 
for his Encouragement; and sometimes accompanies it with a 
Flitch of Bacon to his Mother. Sir Roger has likewise added 
five Pounds a Year to the Clerk’s Place; and that he may 
encourage the young Fellows to make themselves perfect in the 
Church-Service, has promised upon the Death of the present 
Incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to Merit. 

The fair Understanding between Sir Roger and his Chap¬ 
lain, and their mutual Concurrence in doing Good, is the more 
remarkable, because the very next Village is famous for the 
Difierences and Contentions that rise between the Parson and 



342 THE SPECTATOR No. 112. Monday, July 9, 1711 

the 'Squire, who live in a perpetual State of War. The Parson 
is always preaching at the 'Squire, and the 'Squire to be 
revenged on the Parson never comes to Church. The 'Squire 
has made all his Tenants Atheists and Tithe-Stealers; while the 
Parson instructs them every Sunday in the Dignity of his 
Order, and insinuates to them in almost every Sermon, that 
he is a better Man than his Patron. In short. Matters are 
come to such an Extremity, that the 'Squire has not said his 
Prayers either in publick or private this half Year; and that 
the Parson threatens him, if he does not mend his Manners, 
to pray for him in the Face of the whole Congregation. 

Feuds of this Nature, though too frequent in the Country, 
are very fatal to the ordinary People; who are so used to be 
dazled with Riches, that they pay as much Deference to the 
Understanding of a Man of an Estate, as of a Man of Learning; 
and are very hardly brought to regard any Truth, how import¬ 
ant soever it may be, that is preached to them, when they 
know there are several Men of five hundred a Year who do 
not believe it. L 


No. 113. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, July 10. 

. , . Haerent infixi pectore vultus. —Virg. 

In my first Description of the Company in which I pass most 
of my Time, it may be remembered that I mentioned a great 
Affliction which my Friend Sir Roger had met with in his 
Youth, which was no less than a Disappointment in Love. It 
happened this Evening, that we fell into a very pleasing Walk 
at a Distance from his House: As soon as we came into it, ' It 
is,' quoth the good old Man, looking round him with a Smile, 
‘ very hard, that any Part of my Land should be settled upon 
one who has used me so ill as the perverse Widow did; and yet 
I am sure I could not see a Sprig of any Bough of this whole 
Walk of Trees, but I should reflect upon her and her Severity. 
She has certainly the finest Hand of any Woman in the World. 
You are to know this was the Place wherein I used to muse 
upon her; and by that Custom I can never come into it, but 
the same tender Sentiments revive in my Mind, as if I had 
actually walked with that beautiful Creature under these 
Shades. I have been Fool enough to carve her Name on the 
Bark of several of these Trees; so unhappy is the Condition of 
Men in Love, to attempt the removing of their Passion by 
the Methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. She hats 
certainly the finest Hand of any Woman in the World.' 



No. 113. Tuesday, July 10, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 343 

Here followed a profound Silence; and I was not displeased 
to observe my Friend falling so naturally into a Discourse, 
which I had ever before taken Notice he industriously avoided. 
After a very long Pause, he entered upon an Account of this 
great Circumstance in his Life, with an Air which I thought 
raised my Idea of him above what I had ever had before; and 
gave me the Picture of that chearful Mind of his, before it 
received that Stroke which has ever since affected his Words 
and Actions. But he went on as follows. 

* I came to my Estate in my Twenty second Year, and resolved 
to follow the Steps of the most worthy of my Ancestors, who 
have inhabited this spot of Earth before me, in all the Methods 
of Hospitality and good Neighbourhood, for the Sake of my 
Fame; and in Country Sports and Recreations, for the Sake of 
my Health. In my Twenty third Year I was obliged to serve 
as Sheriff of the County; and in my Servants, Officers, and whole 
Equipage, indulged the Pleasure of a young Man (who did not 
think ill of his own Person) in taking that publick Occasion of 
shewing my Figure and Behaviour to Advantage. You may 
easily imagine to your self what Appearance I made, who am 
pretty tall, rid well, and was very well dressed, at the Head of a 
whole County, with Musick before me, a Feather in my Hat, 
and my Horse well bitted. I can assure you I was not a little 
pleased with the kind Looks and Glances I had from all the 
Balconies and Windows, as I rode to the Hall where the 
Assizes were held. But when I came there, a beautiful 
Creature in a Widow's Habit sat in Court, to hear the Event 
of a Cause concerning her Dower. This commanding Creature 
(who was born for Destruction of all who behold her) put on 
such a Resignation in her Countenance, and bore the Whispers 
of all around the Court with such a pretty Uneasiness, I warrant 
you, and then recovered her self from one Eye to another, till 
she was perfectly confused by meeting something so wistful 
in all she encountered, that at last, with a Murrain to her, she 
cast her bewitching Eye upon me. I no sooner met it, but I 
bowed like a great surprized Booby; and knowing her Cause to 
be the first which came on, I cried, like a captivated Calf as 
I was, Make Way for the Defendant's Witnesses. This sudden 
Partiality made all the County immediately see the Sheriff 
also was become a Slave to the fine Widow. During the Time 
her Cause was upon Trial, she behaved her self, I warrant you, 
with such a deep Attention to her Business, took Opportunities 
to have little Billets handed to her Counsel, then would be in 
such a pretty Confusion, occasioned, you must know, by acting 
before so much Company, that not only I but the whole Court 
was prejudiced in her Favour; and all that the next Heir to her • 
1—M 



344 THE SPECTATOR No. 113. Tuesday, July 10, 171 x 

Husband had to urge, was thought so groundless and frivolous, 
that when it came to her Counsel to reply, there was not half 
so much said as every one besides in the Court thought he could 
have urged to her Advantage. You must understand. Sir, 
this perverse Woman is one of those unaccountable Creatures 
that secretly rejoyce in the Admiration of Men, but indulge 
themselves in no further Consequences. Hence it is that she 
has ever had a Train of Admirers, and she removes from her 
Slaves in Town to those in the Country, according to the Sea¬ 
sons of the Year. She is a reading Lady, and far gone in the 
Pleasures of Friendship; She is always accompanied by a 
Confident, who is Witness to her daily Protestations against 
our Sex, and consequently a Bar to her first Steps towards 
Love, upon the Strength of her own Maxims and Declarations. 

However, I must needs say this accomplished Mistress of 
mine has distinguished me above the rest, and has been 
known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the tamest and 
most human of all the Brutes in the Country. I was told she 
said so by one who thought he rallied me: but upon the 
Strength of this slender Encouragement of being thought least 
detestable, I made new Liveries, new paired my Coach- 
Horses, sent them all to Town to be bitted, and taught to 
throw their Legs well, and move altogether, before I pretended 
to cross the Country and wait upon her. As soon as I thought 
my Retinue suitable to the Character of my Fortune and 
Youth, I set out from hence to make my Addresses. The 
particular Skill of this Lady has ever been to inflame your 
Wishes, and yet command Respect. To make her Mistress 
of this Art, she has a greater Share of Knowledge, Wit, and good 
Sense, than is usual even among Men of Merit. Then she is 
beautiful beyond the Race of Women. If you won't let her 
go on with a certain Artifice with her Eyes, and the Skill of 
Beauty, she will arm her self with her real Charms, and strike 
you with Admiration instead of Desire. It is certain that if 
you were to behold the whole Woman, there is that Dignity in 
her Aspect, that Composure in her Motion, that Complacency 
in her Manner, that if her Form makes you hope, her Merit 
makes you fear. But then again, she is such a desperate 
Scholar, that no Country-Gentleman can approach her without 
being a Jest. As I was going to tell you, when I came to her 
House I was admitted to her Presence with great Civility; at 
the same Time she placed her self to be first seen by me in 
such an Attitude, as I think you call the Posture of a Picture, 
that she discovered new Charms, and I at last came towards 
her with such an Awe as made me speechless. This she no 
sooner observed but she made her Advantage of it, and began a 



JVo. II3. Tuesday, July lo, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 345 

Discourse to me concerning Love and Honour, as they both 
are followed by Pretenders, and the real Votaries to them. 
When she discussed these Points in a Discourse, which I verily 
believe was as learned as the best Philosopher in Europe could 
possibly make, she asked me whether she was so happy as to 
fall in with my Sentiments on these important Particulars. 
Her Confident sat by her, and upon my being in the last Con¬ 
fusion and Silence, this malicious Aide of hers turning to her 
says, I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this 
Subject, and seems resolved to deliver all his Sentiments upon 
the Matter when he pleases to speak. They both kept their 
Countenances, and after I had sat half an Hour meditating 
how to behave before such profound Casuists, I rose up and took 
my Leave. Chance has since that Time thrown me very often 
in her Way, and she as often has directed a Discourse to me 
which I do not understand. This Barbarity has kept me ever 
at a Distance from the most beautiful Object my Eyes ever 
beheld. It is thus also she deals with all Mankind, and you 
must make Love to her, as you would conquer the Sphinx, by 
posing her. But were she like other Women, and that there 
were any talking to her, how constant must the Pleasure of 

that Man be, who could converse with a Creature- But, 

after all, you may be sure her Heart is fixed on some one or 
other; and yet I have been credibly informed; but who can 
believe half that is said 1 After she had done speaking to me, 
she put her Hand to her Bosom and adjusted her Tucker. 
Then she cast her Eyes a little down, upon my beholding her 
too earnestly. They say she sings excellently: Her Voice in 
her ordinary Speech has something in it inexpressibly sweet. 
You must know I dined with her at a publick Table the Day 
aiter I first saw her, and she helped me to some Tansy in the 
Eye of all the Gentlemen in the Country: She has certainly the 
finest Hand of any Woman in the World. I can assure you. 
Sir, were you to behold her, you would be in the same Condition; 
for as her Speech is Musick, her Form is Angclick. But I find 
I grow irregular while I am talking of her; but indeed it would 
be Stupidity to be unconcerned at such Perfection. Oh the 
excellent Creature, she is as inimitable to all Women, as she is 
inaccessible to all Men! ’ 

I found my Friend begin to rave, and insensibly led him 
towards the House, that we might be joined by some other 
Company; and am convinced that the Widow is the secret 
Cause of all that Inconsistency which appears in some Parts 
of my Friend's Discourse; tho' he has so much Command of 
himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to that of 
Martial, which one knows not how to render into English, 



34^ THE SPECTATOR No. 113. Tuesday, July 10, 1711 

Dum tacet hanc loquitur. I shall end this Paper with that whole 
Epigram, which represents with much Humour my honest 
Friend's Condition. 

Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est nisi Naevia Rufo: 

Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet. hanc loquitur; 

Caenat, propinat, poscit, negat. annuit, una est 
Naevia: si non sit Naevia, mutus erit. 

Scriberet hesterna patri cum luce salutem, 

Naevia lux, inquit, Naevia numen, ave. 

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk. 

Still he can nothing but of Naevia talk; 

Let him eat, drink, ask Questions, or dispute. 

Still he must speak of Naevia, or he mute. 

He writ to his Father, ending with this Line, 

I am, my Lovely Naevia, ever thine. 


No. II4. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, July ii. 

. . . Paupertatis pudor & fuga . . .—Hor. 

Oeconomy in our Affairs, has the same Effect upon our 
Fortunes which good Breeding has upon our Conversations. 
There is a pretending Behaviour in both Cases, which instead 
of making Men esteemed, renders them both mi.serablc and 
contemptible. We had Yesterday at Sir Roger’s a Set of 
Country Gentlemen who dined with him: and after Dinner the 
Glass was taken, by those who pleased, pretty plentifully. 
Among others I observed a Person of a tolerable good Aspect, 
who seemed to be more greedy of Liquor than any of the 
Company, and yet, methought, he did not taste it with Delight. 
As he grew warm, he was suspicious of every thing that was 
said; and as he advanced towards being fudled, his Humour 
grew worse. At the same Time his Bitterness seemed to be 
rather inward Dissatisfaction in his own Mind, than any Dis¬ 
like he had taken to the Company. Upon hearing his Name, 
I knew him to be a Gentleman of a considerable Fortune in 
this County, but greatly in Debt. What gives the unhappy 
Man this Peevishness of Spirit, is, that his Estate is dipp'd, and 
is eating out w’ith Usury; and yet he has not the heart to sell 
any Part of it. His proud Stomach, at the Cost of restless 
Nights, constant inquietudes. Danger of Affronts, and a thou¬ 
sand nameless Inconveniences, preserves this Canker in his 
Fortune, rather than it shall be said he is a Man of fewer 
Hundreds a Year than he has been commonly reputed. Thus 



No. II4 Wednesday, July 11,1711 THE SPECTATOR 347 

he endures the Torment of Poverty, to avoid the Name of 
being less rich. If you go to his House you see great Plenty; 
but served in a Manner that shows it is all unnatural, and that 
the Master's Mind is not at home. There is a certain Waste 
and Carelessness in the Air of every thing, and the whole 
appears but a covered Indigence, a magnificent Poverty. 
That Neatness and Chearfulness, which attends the Table of 
him who lives within Compass, is wanting, and exchanged for 
a libertine Way of Service in all about him. 

This Gentleman's Conduct, tho' a very common way of 
Management, is as ridiculous as that Officer's would be, who 
had but few Men under his Command, and should take the 
Charge of an Extent of Country rather than of a small Pass. 
To pay for, personate, and keep in a Man's Hands, a greater 
Estate than he really has, is of all others the most unpardon¬ 
able Vanity, and must in the End reduce the Man who is guilty 
of it to Dishonour. Yet if we look round us in any County of 
Great-Britain, we shall see many in this fatal Errour; if that 
may be call’d by so soft a Name, which proceeds from a false 
Shame of appearing what they really are, when the contrary 
Behaviour would in a short Time advance them to the Condition 
which they pretend to. 

Laertes has fifteen hundred Pounds a Year; which is mort¬ 
gaged for six thousand Pounds; but it is impossible to convince 
him, that if he sold as much as would pay off that Debt, he 
would save four Shillings in the Pound, which he gives for the 
Vanity of being the reputed Master of it. Yet if Laertes did 
this, he would, perhaps, be easier in his own Fortune; but then 
Irus, a Fellow of Yesterday, who has but twelve hundred a 
Year, would be his Equal. Rather than this shall be, Laertes 
goes on to bring well-born Beggars into the World, and every 
Twelve-month charges his Estate with at least one Year's 
Rent more by the Birth of a Child. 

Laertes and Irus are Neighbours, whose Way of living are 
an Abomination to each other. Irus is moved by the Fear of 
Poverty, and Laertes by the Shame of it. Though the Motive 
of Action is of so near Affinity in both, and may be resolved 
into this, ‘ That to each of them Poverty is the greatest of all 
Evils,' yet are their Manners very widely different. Shame of 
Poverty makes Laertes launch into unnecessary Equipage, vain 
Expence, and lavish Entertainments; Fear of Poverty makes 
Irus allow himself only plain Necessaries, appear without a 
Servant, sell his own Corn, attend his Labourers, and be him¬ 
self a Labourer. Shame of Poverty makes Laertes go every 
Day a Step nearer to it: and Fear of Poverty stirs up Irus 
to make every Day some further Progress from it. • 



348 THE SPECTATOR No. ii^. Wednesday, July ii, ijii 

These different Motives produce the Excesses which Men are 
guilty of in the Negligence of and Provision for themselves. 
Usury, Stock-Jobbing, Extortion and Oppression, have their 
Seed in the Dread of Want; and Vanity, Riot and Piodigality, 
from the Shame of it: But both these Excesses are infinitely 
below the Pursuit of a reasonable Creature, After we have 
taken Care to command so much as is necessary for maintain¬ 
ing our selves in the Order of Men suitable to our Character, 
the Care of Superfluities is a Vice no less extravagant, than the 
Neglect of Necessaries would have been before. 

Certain it is that they are both out of Nature, when she is 
followed with Reason and good Sense. It is from this Re¬ 
flexion that I always read Mr. Cowley with the greatest 
Pleasure: His Magnanimity is as much above that of other 
considerable Men, as his Understanding; and it is a true 
distinguishing Spirit in the elegant Author who published 
his Works, to dwell so much upon the Temper of his Mind 
and the Moderation of his Desires; By this Means he has 
rendered his Friend as amiable as famous. That State of 
Life which bears the Face of Poverty with Mr. Cowley's great 
Vulgar, is admirably described; and it is no small Satisfac¬ 
tion to those of the same Turn of Desire, that he produces 
the Authority of the wisest Men of the best Age of the 
World, to strengthen his Opinion of the ordinary Pursuits of 
Mankind. 

It would methinks be no ill Maxim of Life, if, according to 
that Ancestor of Sir Roger, whom I lately mentioned, every 
Man would point to himself what Sum he would resolve not to 
exceed. He might by this Means cheat himself into a Tran¬ 
quility on this Side of that Expectation, or convert what he 
should get above it to nobler Uses than his own Pleasures or 
Necessities. This Temper of Mind would exempt a Man from 
an ignorant Envy of restless Men above him, and a more 
inexcusable Contempt of happy Men below him. This would 
be sailing by some Compass, living with some Design; but to 
De eternally bewildered in Prospects of future Gain, and putting 
on unnecessary Annour against improbable Blows of Fortune, 
is a Mechanick Being which has not good Sense for its Direc¬ 
tion, but is carried on by a Sort of acquired Instinct towards 
things below our Consideration and unworthy our Esteem. It 
is possible that the Tranquility I now enjoy at Sir Roger's 
may have created in me this Way of Thinking, which is so 
abstracted from the common Relish of the World: But as I 
am now in a pleasing Arbour surrounded with a beautiful 
Landskip, I find no Inclination so strong as to continue in 
these Mansions, so remote from the ostentatious Scenes of 



No. Wednesday, July 11, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 349 

Life; and am at this present Writing Philosopher enough to 
conclude with Mr. Cowley, 

If e'er Ambition did my Fancy cheat. 

With any Wish so mean as to he Great; 

Continue, Heav'n, still from me to remove 
The humble Blessings of that Life I love. 


No. 115. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, July 12. 

. . . Ui sit mens sana in corpore sano. —Juv. 

Bodily Labour is of two kinds, either that which a Man sub¬ 
mits to for his Livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his 
Pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the Name of 
Labour for that of Exercise, but differs only from ordinary 
Labour as it rises from another Motive. 

A Country Life abounds in both these kinds of Labour, and 
for that Reason gives a Man a greater Stock of Health, and 
consequently a more perfect Enjoyment of himself, than any 
other way of Life. I consider the Body as a System of Tubes 
and Glands, or to use a more Rustick Phrase, a Bundle of 
Pipes and Strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful 
a manner as to make a proper Engine for the Soul to work with. 
This Description does not only comprehend the Bowels, Bones, 
Tendons, Veins, Nerves, and Arteries, but every Muscle and 
every Ligature, which is a Composition of Fibres, that are so 
many imperceptible Tubes or Pipes interwoven on all sides 
with invisible Glands or Strainers. 

This general Idea of a Human Body, without considering 
it in its Niceties of Anatomy, lets us see how absolutely neces¬ 
sary Labour is for the right Preservation of it. There must 
be frequent Motions and Agitations, to mix, digest, and separ¬ 
ate the Juices contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse 
that Infinitude of Pipes and Strainers of which it is composed, 
and to give their solid Parts a more firm and lasting Tone. 
Labour or Exercise ferments the Humours, casts them into 
their proper Channels, throws off Redundancies, and helps 
Nature in those secret Distributions, without which the Body 
cannot subsist in its Vigour, nor the Soul act with Chearfulness. 

I might here mention the Effects which this has upon all 
the Faculties of the Mind, by keeping the Understanding clear, 
the Imagination untroubled, and refining those Spirits that 
are necessary for the proper Exertion of our intellectual 
Faculties, during the present Laws of Union between Soul, 



350 THE SPECTATOR No. ii$. Thursday, July 12, lyii 

and Body. It is to a Neglect in this Particular that we must 
ascribe the Spleen, which is so frequent in Men of studious and 
sedentary Tempers, as well as the Vapours to which those of 
the other Sex are so often subject. 

Had not Exercise been absolutely necessary for our Well¬ 
being, Nature would not have made the Body so proper for it, 
by giving such an Activity to the Limbs, and such a Pliancy to 
every Part as necessarily produce those Compressions, Exten- 
tions. Contortions, Dilatations, and all other kinds of Motions 
that are necessary for the Preservation of such a System of 
Tubes and Glands as has been before mentioned. And that 
we might not want Inducements to engage us in such an 
Exercise of the Body as is proper for its Welfare, it is so ordered 
that nothing valuable can be procured without it. Not to 
mention Riches and Honour, even Food and Raiment are not to 
be come at without the Toil of the Hands and Sweat of the 
Brows. Providence furnishes Materials, but expects that we 
should work them up our selves. The Earth must be laboured 
before it gives its Encrease, and when it is forced into its 
several Products, how many Hands must they pass through 
before they are fit for Use ? Manufactures, Trade, and Agri¬ 
culture, naturally employ more than nineteen Parts of the 
Species in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to 
Labour, by the Condition in which they are born, they are 
more miserable than the rest of Mankind, unless they indulge 
themselves in that voluntary Labour which goes by the Name 
of Exercise, 

My Friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable Man in 
Business of this kind, and has hung several Parts of his House 
with the Trophies of his former Labours. The Walls of his 
great Hall are covered with the Horns of several kinds of Deer 
that he has killed in the Chace, which he thinks the most 
valuable Furniture of his House, as they afford him frequent 
Topicks of Discourse, and shew that he has not been Idle. 
At the lower end of the Hall, is a large Otter’s Skin stuffed with 
Hay, which his Mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, 
and the Knight looks upon with great Satisfaction, because it 
seems he was but nine Years old when his Dog killed him. A 
little Room adjoining to the Hall is a kind of Arsenal filled 
with Guns of several Sizes and Inventions, with which the 
Knight has made great Havock in the Woods, and destroyed 
many thousands of Pheasants, Partridges and Wood-Cocks. 
His Stable Doors are patched with Noses that belonged to 
Foxes of the Knight’s own hunting down. Sir Roger shewed 
me one of them that for Distinction sake has a Brass Nail 
struck through it, which cost him about fifteen Hours riding, 



No.iiS- Thursday, July 12, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 351 

carried him through half a dozen Counties, killed him a brace 
of Geldings, and lost above half his Dogs. This the Knight 
looks upon as one of the greatest Exploits of his Life. The 
perverse Widow, whom I have given some account of, was the 
Death of several Foxes; for Sir Roger has told me that in the 
Course of his Amours he patched the Western Door of his 
Stable. Whenever the Widow was cruel, the Foxes were sure 
to pay for it. In proportion as his Passion for the Widow 
abated, and old Age came on, he left off Fox-hunting; but a 
Hare is not yet safe that sits within ten Miles of his House. 

There is no kind of Exercise which I would so recommend to 
my Readers of both Sexes as this of Riding, as there is none 
which so much conduces to Health, and is every way accom¬ 
modated to the Body, according to the Idea which I have given 
of it. Doctor Sydenham is very lavish in its Praises; and if the 
English Reader would see the Mechanical Effects of it described 
at length, he may find them in a Book published not many 
Years since, under the Title of Medicina Gymnastica. For my 
own part, when I am in Town, for want of these Opportunities, 
I exercise my self an Hour every Morning upon a dumb Bell 
that is placed in a Corner of my Room, and pleases me the more 
because it does every thing I require of it in the most pro¬ 
found Silence. My Landlady and her Daughters are so well 
acquainted with my Hours of Exercise, that they never come 
into my Room to disturb me whilst I am ringing. 

When I was some Years younger than I am at present, I 
used to employ my self in a more laborious Diversion, which 
I learned from a Latin Treatise of Exercises that is written 
with great Erudition: It is there called the arKiofxax^a, or the 
Fighting with a Man's own Shadow; and consists in the 
brandishing of two short Sticks grasped in each Hand, and 
Loaden with Plugs of Lead at either end. This opens the 
Chest, exercises the Limbs, and gives a Man all the Pleasure 
of Boxing, without the Blows. I could wish that several 
Learned Men would lay out that Time which they employ in 
Controversies and Disputes about nothing, in this method of 
fighting with their own Shadows. It might conduce very 
much to evaporate the Spleen, which makes them uneasy to 
the Publick as well as to themselves. 

To conclude. As I am a Compound of Soul and Body, I 
consider my self as obliged to a double Scheme of Duties; 
and think I have not fulfilled the Business of the Day, when I 
do not thus employ the one in Labour and Exercise, as well 
as the other in Study and Contemplation. L 





352 THE SPECTATOR No. 116. Friday, July 1^, ly 11 
No. 116. 

[BUDGELL.] Friday, July 13. 

. . . Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron, 

Taygetique canes . . .—Virg. 

Those who have searched into human Nature observe, that 
nothing so much shews the Nobleness of the Soul, as that its 
Felicity consists in Action. Every Man has such an active 
Principle in him, that he will find out something to employ 
himself upon in whatever Place or State of Life he is posted. 
I have heard of a Gentleman who was under close Confinement in 
the Bastile seven Years; during which Time he amused himself 
in scattering a few small I^ins about his Chamber, gathering 
them up again, and placing them in different Figures on the 
Arm of a great Chair. He often told his Friends afterwards, 
that unless he had found out this Piece of Exercise, he verily 
believed he should have lost his Senses. 

After what has been said, I need not inform my Readers, 
that Sir Roger, with whose Character I hope they are at pre¬ 
sent pretty well acquainted, has in his Youth gone through the 
whole Course of those rural Diversions which the Country 
abounds in; and which seem to be extremely well suited to 
that laborious Industry a Man may observe here in a far greater 
Degree than in Towns and Cities. I have before hinted at 
some of my Friend's Exploits: He has in his youthful Days 
taken forty Coveys of Partridges in a Season; and tired many 
a Salmon with a Line consisting but of a single Hair. The 
constant Thanks and good Wishes of the Neighbourhood always 
attended him, on Account of his remarkable Enmity towards 
Foxes; having destroyed more of those Vermin in one Year, 
than it was thought the whole Country could have produced. 
Indeed the Knight does not scruple to own among his most 
intimate Friends, that in order to establish his Reputation 
this Way, he has secretly sent for great Numbers of them out 
of other Counties, which he used to turn loose about the Coun¬ 
try by Night, that he might the better signalize himself in 
their Destruction the next Day. His Hunting-Horses were the 
finest and best managed in all these Parts: His Tenents are 
still full of the Praises of a grey Stone-horse that unhappily 
staked himself several Years since, and was buried with great 
Solemnity in the Orchard. 

Sir Roger, being at present too old for Fox-hunting; to keep 
himself in Action, has disposed of his Beagles and got a Pack 
of Stop-Hounds. What these want in Speed, he endeavours 
to make Amends for by the Deepness of their Mouths and the 



No. ii6. Friday, July 13, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 353 

Variety of their Notes, which are suited in such Manner to 
each other, that the whole Cry makes up a compleat Consort. 
He is so nice in this Particular, that a Gentleman having made 
him a Present of a very fine Hound the other Day, the Knight 
return’d it by the Servant with a great many Expressions of 
Civility; but desired him to tell his Master, that the Dog he 
had sent was indeed a most excellent Base, but that at present 
he only wanted a Counter-Tenor. Could I believe my Friend 
had ever read Shakespear, I should certainly conclude he had 
taken the Hint from Theseus in the Midsummer-Night's Dream. 

My Hounds are bred out of the Spartan Kind, 

So flu'd, so sanded; and their Heads are hung 
With Ears that sweep away the Morning Dew. 

Crook-Knee’d and dew-lap’d like Thessalian Bulls; 

Slow in Pursuit, hut match’d in Mouths like Bells, 

Each under each: A Cry more tuneable 
Was never hallow’d to, nor chear’d with Horn. 

Sir Roger is so keen at this Sport, that he has been out 
almost every Day since I came down; and upon the Chap¬ 
lain’s offering to lend me his easy Pad, I was prevail’d on 
Yesterday Morning to make one of the Company. I was 
extremely pleas’d, as we rid along, to observe the general 
Benevolence of all the Neighbourhood towards rny Friend. 
The Farmers’ Sons thought themselves happy if they could 
open a Gate for the good old Knight as he passed by; which he 
generally requited with a Nod or a Smile, and a kind Inquiry 
after their Fathers and Uncles. 

After we had rid about a Mile from home, we came upon a 
large Heath, and the Sports-men began to beat. They had 
done so for some time, when, as I was at a little Distance from 
the rest of the Company, I saw a Hare pop out from a small 
Furze-brake almost under my Horse’s Feet. I marked the 
Way she took, which I endeavoured to make the Company 
sensible of by extending my Arm; but to no purpose, till Sir 
Roger, who knows that none of my extraordinary Motions 
are insignificant, rode up to me, and asked me if Puss was gone 
that Way? Upon my answering Yes he immediately call’d in 
the Dogs, and put them upon the Scent. As they were going 
off, I heard one of the Country-Fellows muttering to his Com¬ 
panion, That 'twas a Wonder they had not lost all their Sport, for 
want of the silent Gentleman's crying STOLE AWAY. 

I'his, with my Aversion to leaping Hedges, made me with¬ 
draw to a rising Ground, from whence I could have the 
Pleasure of the whole Chase, without the Fatigue of keeping in 
with the Hounds. The Hare immediately threw them above a • 



354 THE SPECTATOR No. 116. Friday, July 1^, lyii 

Mile behind her; but I was pleased to find, that instead of 
running straight forwards, or, in Hunter’s Language, Flying 
the Country, as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled 
about, and described a sort of Circle round the Hill where I 
had taken my Station, in such Manner as gave me a very 
distinct View of the Sport. I could see her first pass by, and 
the Dogs some Time afterwards unravelling the whole Track 
she had made, and following her thro' all her Doubles. I was at 
the same Time delighted in observing that Deference which 
the rest of the Pack paid to each particular Hound, according 
to the Character he had acquired amongst them: If they were 
at a Fault, and an old Hound of Reputation opened but once, 
he was immediately follow'd by the whole Cry; while a raw 
Dog, or one who was a noted Liar, might have yelped his 
Heart out, without being taken Notice of. 

The Hare now, after having squatted two or three Times, 
and been put up again as often, came still nearer to the Place 
where she was at first started. The Dogs pursued her, and 
these were followed by the jolly Knight, who rode upon a 
white Gelding, encompassed by his Tenants and Servants, and 
chearing his Hounds with all the Gaiety of Five and Twenty. 
One of the Sports-men rode up to me, and told me that he was 
sure the Chase was almost at an End, because the old Dogs, 
which had hitherto lain behind, now headed the Pack. The 
Fellow was in the Right. Our Hare took a large Field just 
under us, follow'd by the full Cry in View. I must confess the 
Brightness of the Weather, the Chearfulness of every thing 
around me, the Chiding of the Hounds, which was returned 
upon us in a double Eccho from two neighbouring Hills, with 
the Hollowing of the Sports-men, and the Sounding of the 
Horn, lifted my Spirits into a most lively Pleasure, which I 
freely indulged because 1 was sure it was innocent. If I was 
under any Concern, it was on the Account of the poor Hare, 
that was now quite spent, and almost within the Reach of her 
Enemies; when the Hunts-man getting forward, threw down 
his Pole before the Dogs. They were now within eight Yards 
of that Game which they had been pursuing for almost as many 
Hours; yet on the Signal before-mentioned they all made a 
sudden Stand, and tho' they continued opening as much as 
before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the Pole. At 
the same Time Sir Roger rode forward, and alighting, took up 
the Hare in his Arms; which he soon after delivered to one of 
his Servants, with an Order, if she could be kept alive, to let her 
go in his great Orchard, where, it seems, he has several of these 
Prisoners of War, who live together in a very comfortable 
Caotivity. I was highly pleased to see the Discipline of the 



No. n6. Friday, July 13, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 355 

Pack, and the Good-nature of the Knight, who could not find 
in his Heart to murder a Creature that had given him so much 
Diversion. 

As we were returning home. I remembered that Monsieur 
Paschal in his most excellent Discourse on the Misery of Man, 
tells us. That all our Endeavours after Greatness, proceed from 
nothing but a Desire of being surrounded by a Multitude of Persons 
and Affairs, that may hinder us from looking into our selves, 
which is a View we cannot bear. He afterwards goes on to shew 
that our Love of Sports comes from the same Reason, and is 
particularly severe upon HUNTING. What, says he, unless 
it be to drown Thought, can make Men throw away so much 
Time and Pains upon a silly Animal, which they might buy 
cheaper in the Market ? The foregoing Reflection is certainly 
just, when a Man suffers his whole Mind to be drawn into his 
Sports, and altogether loses himself in the Woods; but does not 
aflect those who propose a far more laudable End from this 
Exercise, I mean. The Preservation of Health, and keeping all the 
Organs of the Soul in a Condition to execute her Orders. Had 
that incomparable Person whom I last quoted been a little 
more indulgent to himself in this Point, the World might 
probably have enjoyed him much longer; whereas thro' too 
great an Application to his Studies in his Youth, he contracted 
that ill Habit of Body, which, after a tedious Sickness, carried 
him off in the fortieth Year of his Age; and the whole History 
we have of his Life till that Time, is but one continued Account 
of the Behaviour of a noble Soul struggling under innumerable 
Pains and Distempers. 

For my own Part, I intend to hunt twice a Week during my 
Stay with Sir Roger; and shall prescribe the moderate use of 
this Exercise to all my Country Friends, as the best Kind of 
Physick for mending a bad Constitution, and preserving a 
good one. 

I cannot do this better, than in the following Lines out of 
Mr. Dry den. 

The first Physicians by Debauch were made. 

Excess began, and Sloth sustains the Trade. 

By Chace our long-liv’d Fathers earn'd their Food, 

Toil strung the Nerves, and purify'd the Blood: 

But we their Sons, a pamper’d Race of Men, 

Are dwindled down to threescore Years and ten. 

Better to hunt in Fields for Health unbought. 

Than fee the Doctor for a nauseous Draught. 

The Wise for Cure on Exercise depend, 

God never made his Work for Man to mend. 



35^ THE SPECTATOR No. 117. Saturday, July 14, 1,711 


No. 117. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, July 14. 

. . . Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt. —Virg. 

There are some Opinions in which a Man should stand Neuter, 
without engaging his Assent to one side or the other. Such a 
hovering Faith as this, which refuses to settle upon any Deter¬ 
mination, is absolutely necessary in a Mind that is careful to 
avoid Errors and Prepossessions. When the Arguments press 
equally on both sides in Matters that are indifferent to us, the 
safest Method is to give up our selves to neither. 

It is with this Temper of Mind that I consider the Subject 
of Witchcraft. When I hear the Relations that are made from 
all Parts of the World, not only from Norway and Lapland, 
from the East and West Indies, but from every particular 
Nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such 
an Intercourse and Commerce with Evil Spirits, as that which 
we express by the Name of Witchcraft. But when I consider 
that the ignorant and credulous Parts of the World abound 
most in these Relations, and that the Persons among us who 
arc supposed to engage in such an Infernal Commerce are 
People of a weak Understanding and crazed Imagination, and 
at the same time reflect upon the many Impostures and De¬ 
lusions of this Nature that have been detected in all Ages, I 
endeavour to suspend my Belief till I hear more certain 
Accounts than any which have yet come to my Knowledge. 
In short, when I consider the Question, Whether there are 
such Persons in the World as those we call Witches ? my Mind 
is divided between the two opposite Opinions; or rather (to 
speak my Thoughts freely) I believe in general that there is, 
and has been such a thing as Witchcraft; but at the same time 
can give no Credit to any Particular Instance of it. 

I am engaged in this Speculation, by some Occurrences 
that I met with Yesterday, which I shall give my Reader an 
Account of at large. As I was walking with my Friend Sir 
Roger by the side of one of his Woods, an old Woman applied 
her self to me for my Charity. Her Dress and Figure put me 
in mind of the following Description in Otway. 

In a close Lane as I pursu’d my Journey, 

1 spy’d a wrinkled Hag, with Age grown doublet 
Picking dry Sticks, and mumbling to her self. 

Her Eyes with scalding Rheum were gall’d and red: 

Cold Palsy shook her Head; her Hands seem’d wither’d; 

A iid on her Crooked Shoulders had she wrapp’d 
The tatter'd Remnants of an old striped Hanging, 

Which serv’d to keep her Carcass from the Cold: 



No. 117. Saturday, July 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 357 

So there was nothing of a-piece about her. 

Her lower Weeds were all o’er coarsely patch’d 
With diff'rent-colour’d Rags, black, red, white, yellow. 

And seem’d to speak Variety of Wretchedness. 

As I was musing on this Description, and comparing it 
with the object before me, the Knight told me, that this very 
old Woman had the Reputation of a Witch all over the Coun¬ 
try, that her Lips were observed to be always in Motion, and 
that there was not a Switch about her House which her Neigh¬ 
bours did not believe had carried her several hundreds of 
Miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found Sticks 
or Straws that lay in the Figure of a Cross before her. If she 
made any Mistake at Church, and cryed Amen in a wrong 
Place, they never failed to conclude that she was saying her 
Prayers backwards. There was not a Maid in the Parish 
that would take a Pin of her, though she should offer a Bag of 
Money with it. She goes by the Name of Moll White, and has 
made the Country ring with several imaginary Kxploits which 
are palmed upon her. If the Dairy Maid does not make her 
Butter come so soon as she would have it, Moll White is at 
the bottom of the Churn. If a Horse sweats in the Stable, 
Moll White has been upon his Back. If a Hare makes an 
unexpected Escape from the Hounds, the Huntsman curses 
Moll White. Nay, (says Sir Roger) I have known the Master 
of the Pack, upon such an Occasion, send one of his Servants 
to see if Moll White had been out that Morning. 

This Account raised my Curiosity so far, that I begged my 
Friend Sir Roger to go with me into her Hovel, which stood 
in a solitary Corner under the side of the Wood. Upon our first 
entring Sir Roger winked to me, and pointed at something 
that stood behind the Door, which upon looking that way I 
found to be an old Broomstaff. At the same time he whispered 
me in the Ear to take notice of a Tabby Cat that sat in the 
Chimney-Corner, which, as the old Knight told me, lay under 
as bad a Report as Moll White her self; for besides that Moll 
is said often to accompany her in the same Shape, the Cat is 
reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her Life, and to have 
played several Pranks above the Capacity of an ordinary Cat. 

I was secretly concerned to see Human Nature in so much 
Wretchedness and Disgrace, but at the same time could not 
forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a little puzzled 
about the old Woman, advising her as a Justice of Peace to 
avoid all Communication with the Devil, and never to hurt 
any of her Neighbours' Cattle. We concluded our Visit with 
a Bounty, which was very acceptable. 

In our Return home Sir Roger told me, that old Moll had. 



358 THE SPECTATOR No. 117. Saturday, July 14, 1711 

been often brought before him for making Children spit Pins, 
and giving Maids the Night-Mare; and that the Country 
People would be tossing her into a Pond and trying Ex¬ 
periments with her every Day, if it was not for him and his 
Chaplain. 

I have since found, upon Enquiry, that Sir Roger was 
several times staggered with the Reports that had been brought 
him concerning this old Woman, and would frequently have 
bound her over to the County Sessions, had not his Chaplain 
with much ado perswaded him to the contrary. 

I have been the more particular in this Account, because 
I hear there is scarce a Village in England that has not a Moll 
White in it. When an old Woman begins to doat, and grow 
chargeable to a Parish, she is generally turned into a Witch, 
and fills the whole Country with extravagant Fancies, imagi¬ 
nary Distempers, and terrifying Dreams. In the mean time, 
the poor Wretch that is the innocent Occasion of so many 
Evils begins to be frighted at her self, and sometimes confesses 
secret Commerce and Familiarities that her Imagination forms 
in a delirious old Age. This frequently cuts off Charity from 
the greatest Objects of Compassion, and inspires People with 
a Malevolence towards those poor decrepid Parts of our Species, 
in whom Human Nature is defaced by Infirmity and Dotage. L 


No. 118. 

[STEELE.] Monday, July 16. 

. . . Haeret lateri lethalis arundo. —Virg. 

This agreeable Seat is surrounded with so many pleasing 
Walks, which are struck out of a Wood, in the Midst of 
which the House stands, that one can hardly ever be weary of 
rambling from one Labyrinth of Delight to another. To one 
used to live in a City the Charms of the Country are so ex¬ 
quisite, that the Mind is lost in a certain Transport which 
raises us above ordinary Life, and yet is not strong enough to 
be inconsistent with Tranquility. This State of Mind was I 
in, ravished with the Murmur of Waters, the Whisper of 
Breezes, the Singing of Birds; and whether I looked up to the 
Heavens, down on the Earth, or turned on the Prospects 
around me, still struck with new Sense of Pleasure; when I 
found by the Voice of my Frjend who walked by me, that we 
had insensibly strolled into the Grove sacred to the Widow. 

This Woman,' says he,' is of all others the most unintelligible: 
she either designs to marry, or she does not. What is the most 



No. ii8. Monday, July i6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 359 

perplexing of all, is, tht she does not either say to her Lovers 
she has any Resolution against that Condition of Life in general, 
or that she banishes them; but conscious of her own Merit, 
she permits their Addresses without Fear of any ill Consequence, 
or want of Respect, from their Rage or Despair. She has that 
in her Aspect, against which it is impossible to offend. A 
Man whose Thoughts are constantly bent upon so agreeable an 
Object, must be excused if the ordinary Occurrences in Con¬ 
versation are below his Attention. I call her indeed perverse; 
but, alas! why do I call her so? because her superior Merit 
is such, that I cannot approach her without Awe, that my 
Heart is checked by too much Esteem : I am angry that her 
Charms are not more accessible, that I am more inclined to 
worship than salute her: How often have I wished her unhappy, 
that I might have an Opportunity of serving her? and how 
often troubled in that very imagination, at giving her the Pain 
of being obliged? Well, I have led a miserable Life in secret 
upon her Account: but fancy she would have condescended to 
have some Regard for me, if it had not been for that watchful 
Animal her Confident. 

Of all Persons under the Sun (continued he, calling me by 
my Name) be sure to set a Mark upon Confidents: they are 
of all People the most impertinent. What is most pleasant 
to observe in them, is, that they assume to themselves the 
Merit of the Persons whom they have in their Custody. 
Orestilla is a great Fortune, and in wonderful Danger of Sur¬ 
prizes, therefore full of Suspicions of the least indifferent 
thing, particularly careful of new Acquaintance, and of 
growing too familiar with the old. Themista, her Favourite- 
Woman, is every whit as careful of whom she speaks to, and 
what she says. Let the Ward be a Beauty, her Confident 
shall treat you with an Air of Distance; let her be a Fortune, 
and she assumes the suspicious Behaviour of her Friend 
and Patroness. Thus it is that very many of our unmarried 
Women of Distinction, are to all Intents and Purposes married, 
except the Consideration of different sexes. They are directly 
under the Conduct of their Whisperer; and think they are in a 
State of Freedom, while they can prate with one of these 
Attendants of all Men in general, and still avoid the Man they 
most like. You do not see one Heiress in a hundred whose 
Fate does not turn upon this Circumstance of chusing a Con¬ 
fident. Thus it is that the Lady is addressed to, presented, 
and flattered, only by Proxy, in her Woman. In my Case, how 

is it possible that-’ Sir Roger was proceeding in his 

Harangue, when we heard the Voice of one speaking very 
importunately, and repeating these Words, ‘What, not on^ 



360 THE SPECTATOR No. 118. Monday, July 16, 1711 

Smile?' We followed the Sound till we came to a close 
Thicket, on the other Side of which we saw a young Woman 
sitting as it were in a personated Sullenness just over a trans¬ 
parent Fountain. Opposite to her Stood Mr. William, Sir 
Roger's Master of the Game. The Knight whispered me, 
‘Hist, these are Lovers.' The Huntsman looked earnestly at 
the Shadow of the young Maiden in the Stream, ‘ Oh thou dear 
Picture, if thou could’st remain there in the Absence of that 
fair Creature whom you represent in the Water, how willingly 
could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling my 
dear Betty herself with any Mention of her unfortunate William, 
whom she is angry with: But alas! when she pleases to be gone, 
thou wilt also vanish. ... Yet let me talk to thee while 
thou dost stay. Tell my dearest Betty, thou dost not more 
depend upon her, than does her William\ Her Absence will 
make away with me, as well as thee. If she offers to remove 
thee, I '11 jump into these Waves to lay hold on thee; her herself, 
her own dear Person, I must never embrace again—Still 
do you hear me without one Smile?—It is too much to 
bear.—' He had no sooner spoke these Words, but he made 
an Offer of throwing him.self into the Water: At which his 
Mistress started up, and at the next Instant he jumped across 
the Fountain and met her in an Embrace. She half recover¬ 
ing from her Fright, said, in the most charming Voice imagin¬ 
able, and with a Tone of Cx)mplaint, ' I thought how well you 
would drown your self. No, no, you won’t drown your self till 
you have taken your leave of Susan Holliday,* The Hunts¬ 
man, with a Tenderness that spoke the most passionate Love, 
and with his Cheek close to hers, whispered the softest Vows 
of Fidelity in her Ear; and cryed, ‘Don’t, my Dear, believe a 
Word Kate Willow says; she is spiteful and makes Stories, 
because she loves to hear me talk to herself for your sake.' 
‘Look you there,' quoth Sir Roger, ‘do you see there, all 
Mischief comes from Confidents! But let us not interrupt 
them; the Maid is honest, and the Man dare not be otherwise, 
for he knows I loved her Father: I will interpose in this Matter, 
arid hasten the Wedding. Kate Willow is*a witty mischievous 
Wench in the Neighbourhood, who was a Beauty; and makes 
me hope I shall see the perverse Widow in her Condition. 
She was so flippant with her Answers to all the honest Fellows 
that came near her, and so very vain of her Beauty, that she 
has valued herself upon her Charms till they are ceased. She 
therefore now makes it her Business to prevent other young 
Women from being more Discreet than she was herself: How¬ 
ever, the saucy Thing said the other Day well enough,“Sir 
Roger and I must make a Match, for we are both despised by 



No. iiS, Monday, July i6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 361 

those we loved"; The Hussy has a great Deal of Power 
wherever she comes, and has her Share of Cunning. 

However, when I reflect upon this Woman, I do not know 
whether in the Main I am the worse for having loved her: 
Whenever she is recalled to my Imagination my Youth re¬ 
turns, and I feel a forgotten Warmth in my Veins. This 
Affliction in my Life has streaked all my Conduct with a Soft¬ 
ness, of which I should otherwise have been incapable. It is, 
perhaps, to this dear Image in my Heart owing, that I am apt 
to relent, that I easily forgive, and that many desirable things 
are grown into my Temper, which I should not have arrived 
at by better Motives than the Thought of being one Day hers. 
I am pretty well satisfied such a Passion as I have had is never 
well cured; and between you and me, I am often apt to imagine 
it has had some whimsical Effect upon my Brain: For I 
frequently find, that in my most serious Discourse I let fall 
some comical Familiarity of Speech or odd Phrase that makes 
the Company laugh; However I cannot but allow she is a most 
excellent Woman. When she is in the Country I warrant she 
does not run into Dairies, but reads upon the Nature of Plants: 
She has a Glass Hive, and comes into the Garden out of Books 
to see them work, and observe the Policies of their Common¬ 
wealth, She understands every thing. I'd give ten Pounds 
to hear her argue with my Friend Sir Andrew Freeport about 
Trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as it were, take 
my Word for it she is no Fool.' T 


No. 119. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, July 17. 

Urhem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putavi 
Siultus ego huic nostrae similem . . .— Virg. 

The first and most obvious Reflections which arise in a Man 
who changes the City for the Country, are upon the different 
Manners of the People whom he meets with in those two differ¬ 
ent Scenes of Life. By Manners I do not mean Morals, but 
Behaviour and Good Breeding, as they shew themselves in the 
Town and in the Country. 

And here, in the first place, I must observe a very great 
Revolution that has happened in this Article of Good Breeding. 
Several obliging Deferencies, Condescensions and Submissions, 
with many outward Forms and Ceremonies that accompany 
them, were first of all brought up among the politer Part of 
Mankind who lived in Courts and Cities, and distinguished 



362 THE SPECTATOR No. 119. Tuesday, July 17, 1711 

themselves from the Rustick part of the Species (who on all 
Occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such a mutual Com¬ 
plaisance and Intercourse of Civilities. These Forms of Con¬ 
versation by degrees multiplied and grew troublesome; the 
Modish World found too great a Constraint in them, and have 
therefore thrown most of them aside. Conversation, like the 
Romish Religion, was so encumbered with Show and Ceremony, 
that it stood in need of a Reformation to retrench its Super¬ 
fluities, and restore it to its natural good Sense and Beauty. 
At present therefore an unconstrained Carriage, and a certain 
Openness of Behaviour, are the height of Good Breeding. The 
Fashionable World is grown free and easie; our Manners sit 
more loose upon us: Nothing is so modish as an agreeable 
Negligence. In a word. Good Breeding shows it self most, 
where to an ordinary Eye it appears the least. 

If after this we look on the People of Mode in the Country, 
we find in them the Manners of the last Age. They have no 
sooner fetched themselves up to the Fashion of the Polite 
World, but the Town has dropped them, and are nearer to the 
first State of Nature than to those Refinements which formerly 
reigned in the Court, and still prevail in the Country. One 
may now know a Man that never conversed in the World by 
his Excess of Good Breeding. A Polite Country Squire shall 
make you as many Bows in half an hour, as would serve a 
Courtier for a Week. There is infinitely more to do about 
Place and Precedency in a Meeting of Justices' Wives, than in 
an Assembly of Dutchesses. 

This Rural Politeness is very troublesome to a Man of my 
Temper, who generally take the Chair that is next me, and 
walk first or last, in the Front or in the Rear, as Chance directs. 
I have known my Friend Sir Roger’s Dinner almost cold before 
the Company could adjust the Ceremonial, and be prevailed 
upon to sit down; and have heartily pitied my old Friend, when 
I have seen him forced to pick and cull his Guests, as they sat 
at the several Parts of his Table, that he might drink their 
Healths according to their respective Ranks and Qualities 
Honest Will. Wimble, who I should have thought had been 
altogether uninfected with Ceremony, gives me abundance of 
Trouble in this Particular. Though he has been fishing all the 
Morning, he will not help himself at Dinner 'till I am served. 
When we are going out of the Hall, he runs behind me; and 
last Night, as we were walking in the Fields, stopped short at 
a Stile till I came up to it, and upon my making Signs to him 
to get over, told me, with a serious Smile, that sure I beheved 
they had no Manners in the Country. 

There has happened another Revolution in the Point of 



No. 119. Tuesday, July 17, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 363 

Good Breeding, which relates to the Conversation among Men 
of Mode, and which I cannot but look upon as very extra¬ 
ordinary. It was certainly one of the first Distinctions of a 
well-bred Man, to express every thing that had the most 
remote Appearance of being obscene, in modest Terms and 
distant Phrases; whilst the Clown, who had no such Delicacy 
of Conception and Expression, clothed his Ideas in those plain 
homely Terms that are the most obvious and natural. This 
kind of Good Manners was perhaps carried to an Excess, so as 
to make Conversation too stiff, formal and precise; for which 
Reason (as Hypocrisy in one Age is generally succeeded by 
Atheism in another) Conversation is in a great measure relapsed 
into the first Extream; So that at present several of our Men 
of the Town, and particularly those who have been polished in 
France, make use of the most coarse uncivilized Words in our 
Language, and utter themselves often in such a manner as a 
Clown would blush to hear. 

This infamous Piece of Good Breeding, which reigns among 
the Coxcombs of the Town, has not yet made its way into the 
Country: and as it is impossible for such an irrational way of 
Conversation to last long among a People that make any Pro¬ 
fession of Religion, or Show of Modesty, if the Country Gentle¬ 
men get into it they will certainly be left in the Lurch. Their 
Good Breeding will come too late to them, and they will be 
thought a parcel of lewd Clowns, while they fancy themselves 
talking together like Men of Wit and Pleasure. 

As the two Points of Good Breeding, which I have hitherto 
insisted upon, regard Behaviour and Conversation, there is a 
third which turns upon Dress. In this too the Country are 
very much behind hand. The Rural Beaus are not yet got out 
of the Fashion that took place at the time of the Revolution, 
but ride about the Country in red Coats and laced Hats, while 
the Women in many Parts are still trying to outvie one another 
in the Height of their Head Dresses. 

But a Friend of mine who is now upon the Western Circuit, 
having promised to give me an Account of the several Modes 
and Fashions that prevail in the different Parts of the Nation 
through which he passes, I shall defer the enlarging upon this 
last Topick till I have received a Letter from him, which I 
expect every Post. L 



364 THE SPECTATOR No. 120. Wednesday, July iS, ly 11 


No. 120. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, July 18. 

, . . Equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis 
Ingenium . . .—^Virg. 

My Friend Sir Roger is very often merry with me, upon my 
passing so much of my Time among his Poultry : He has 
caught me twice or thrice looking after a Bird’s Nest, and 
several times sitting an Hour or two together near an Hen and 
Chickens. He tells me he believes I am personally acquainted 
with every Fowl about his House; calls such a particular Cock 
my Favourite; and frequently complains that his Ducks and 
Geese have more of my Company than himself. 

I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those Specula¬ 
tions of Nature which are to be made in a Country-Life; and 
as my Reading has very much lain among Books of natural 
History, I cannot forbear recollecting upon this Occasion the 
several Remarks which I have met with in Authors, and com¬ 
paring them with what falls under my own Observation: The 
Arguments for Providence drawn from the natural History of 
Animals, being in my Opinion demonstrative. 

The Make of every Kind of Animal is different from that of 
every other Kind; and yet there is not the least Turn in the 
Muscles or Twist in the Fibres of any one, which does not 
render them more proper for that particular Animal's Way of 
Life than any other Cast or Texture of them would have been. 

The most violent Appetites in all Creatures are Lust and 
Hunger : The first, is a perpetual Call upon them to propagate 
their Kind; the latter, to preserve themselves. 

It is astonishing to consider the different Degrees of Care 
that descend from the Parent to the Young, so far as is abso¬ 
lutely necessary for the leaving a Posterity. Some Creatures 
cast their Eggs as Chance directs them, and think of them no 
farther, as Insects and several Kinds of Fish: Others of a nicer 
Frame, find out proper Beds to deposite them in, and there leave 
them; as the Serpent, the Crocodile, and Ostrich ; Others hatch 
their Eggs and tend the Birth, till it is able to shift for it self. 

What can we call the Principle which directs every different 
Kind of Bird to observe a particular Plan in the Structure of its 
Nest, and directs all of the same Species to work after the same 
Model? It cannot be Imitation) for though you hatch a Crow 
under a Hen, and never let it see any of the Works of its own 
Kind, the Nest it makes shall be the same, to the laying of a 
Stick, with all the other Nests of the same Species. It cannot 
be Reason ) for were Animals indued with it to as great a Degree 



No. 120. Wednesday, July jS, lyii THE SPECTATOR 365 

as Man, their Buildings would be as different as ours, according 
to the different Conveniencies that they would propose to 
themselves. 

Is it not remarkable, that the same Temper of Weather which 
raises this genial Warmth in Animals, should cover the Trees 
with Leaves and the Fields with Grass for their Security and 
Concealment, and produce such infinite Swarms of Insects for 
the Support and Sustenance of their respective Broods ? 

Is it not wonderful, that the Love of the Parent should be so 
violent while it lasts; and that it should last no longer than is 
necessary for the Preservation of the Young? 

The Violence of this natural Love is exemplified by a very 
barbarous Experiment; which I shall (juote at Length as I 
find it in an excellent Author, and hope my Readers will pardon 
the mentioning such* an Instance of Cruelty, because there is 
nothing can so effectually shew the strength of that Principle 
in Animals of which 1 am here speaking. 'A Person who was 
well skilled in Dissections opened a Bitch, and as she lay in the 
most exquisite Tortures offered her one of her young Puppies, 
which she immediately fell a licking; and for the Time seemed 
insensible of her own Pain; On the Removal, she kept her Eye 
fixt on it, and began a wailing sort of Cry, which seemed rather 
to proceed from the Loss of her young one, than the Sense of 
her own Torments.' 

But notwithstanding this natural Love In Brutes is much 
more violent and intense than in rational Creatures, Providence 
has taken Care that it should be no longer troublesome to the 
Parent than it is useful to the Young; for so soon as the Wants 
of the latter cease, the Mother withdraws her Fondness and 
leaves them to provide for themselves: And what is a very 
remarkable Circumstance in this Part of Instinct, we find that 
the Love of the Parent may be lengthened out beyond its usual 
Time if the Preservation of the Species requires it; as we may 
see in Birds that drive away their Young assoon as they are 
able to get their Livelihood, but continue to feed them if they 
are tied to the Nest or confined within a Cage, or by any other 
Means appear to be out of a Condition of supplying their 
own Necessities. 

This natural Love is not observed in Animals to ascend from 
the Young to the Parent, which is not at all necessary for the 
Continuance of the Species: Nor indeed in reasonable Creatures 
does it rise in any Proportion, as it spreads it self downwards; 
for in all Family-Affection, we find Protection granted and 
Favours bestowed, are greater Motives to Love and Tender¬ 
ness, than Safety, Benefits, or Life received. 

. One would wonder to hear Sceptical Men disputing for the 



366 THE SPECTATOR No. 120. Wednesday, July ib, ly 11 

Reason of Animals, and telling us it is only our Pride and 
Prejudices that will not allow them the Use of that Faculty. 

Reason shews it self in all Occurrences of Life; whereas 
the Brute makes no Discovery of such a Talent, but in what 
immediately regards his own Preservation, or the Continuance 
of his Species. Animals in their Generation are wiser than 
the Sons of Men; but their Wisdom is confined to a few Par¬ 
ticulars, and lies in a very narrow Compass. Take a Brute 
out of his Instinct, and you find him wholly deprived of 
Understanding. To use an Instance that comes often under 
Observation. 

With what Caution does the Hen provide her self a Nest In 
Places unfrequented, and free from Noise and Disturbance? 
When she has laid her Eggs in such a Manner that she can cover 
them, what Care does she take in turning them frequently, 
that all Parts may partake of the vital Warmth? When she 
leaves them to provide for her necessary Sustenance, how 
punctually does she return before they have Time to cool, and 
become incapable of producing an Animal? In the Summer 
you see her giving her self greater Freedoms, and quitting her 
Care for above two Hours together; but in Winter, when the 
Rigour of the Season would chill the Principles of Life, and 
destroy the young one, she grows more assiduous in her 
Attendance, and stays away but half the Time. When the 
Birth approaches, with how much Nicety and Attention does 
she help the Chick to break its Prison ? Not to take Notice of 
her covering it from the Injuries of the Weather, providing 
it proper Nourishment, and teaching it to help it self; nor to 
mention her forsaking the Nest, if after the usual Time of 
reckoning the young one does not make its Appearance. A 
Chymical Operation could not be followed with greater Art or 
Diligence, than is seen in the hatching of a Chick; tho’ there 
are many other Birds that shew an infinitely greater Sagacity 
in all the forementioned Particulars. 

But at the same Time the Hen, that has all this seeming 
Ingenuity, (which is indeed absolutely necessary for the 
Propagation of the Species) considered in other Respects, is 
without the least Glimmerings of Thought or Common Sense. 
She mistakes a Piece of Chalk for an Egg, and sits upon it in 
the same Manner: She is insensible of any Increase or Diminu¬ 
tion in the Number of those she lays: She does not distinguish 
between her own and those of another Species; and when the 
Birth appears of never so different a Bird, will cherish it for 
her own. In all these Circumstances, which do not carry an 
immediate Regard to the Subsistance of her self or her Species, 
she is a very Ideot. 



No. 120. Wednesday, July iS, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 367 

There is not in my Opinion any thing more mysterious in 
Nature than this Instinct in Animals, which thus rises above 
Reason, and falls infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted 
for by any Properties in Matter, and at the same Time works 
after so odd a Manner, that one cannot think it the Faculty 
of an intellectual Being. For my own Part, I look upon it as 
upon the Principle of Gravitation in Bodies, which is not to be 
explained by any known Qualities inherent in the Bodies 
themselves, nor from any Laws of Mechanism, but, according 
to the best Notions of the greatest Philosophers, is an im¬ 
mediate Impression from the first Mover, and the Divine 
Energy acting in the Creatures. 


No. 121. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, July 19. 

. . . Jovis omnia plena. —Virg. 

As I was walking this Morning in the great Yard that belongs 
to my Friend's Country Hou.se, I was wonderfully pleased to 
see the different Workings of Instinct in a Hen followed by a 
Brood of Ducks. The Young, upon the sight of a Pond, 
immediately ran into it; while the Step-mother, with all 
imaginable Anxiety, hovered about the Borders of it, to call 
them out of an Element that appeared to her so dangerous and 
destructive. As the different Principle which acted in these 
different Animals cannot be termed Reason, so when we call it 
Instinct we mean something we have no Knowledge of. To 
me, as I hinted in my last Paper, it seems the immediate 
Direction of Providence, and such an Operation of the Supreme 
Being as that which determines all the Portions of Matter 
to their proper Centres. A modem Philosopher, quoted by 
Monsieur Bayle in his Learned Dissertation on the Souls of 
Brutes, delivers the same Opinion, tho' in a bolder form of 
Words, where he says, Deus est Anima Brutorum, God himself 
is the Soul of Brutes. Who can tell what to call that seeming 
Sagacity in Animals, which directs them to such Food as is 
proper for them, and makes them naturally avoid whatever is 
noxious or unwholesome ? Tully has observed that a Lamb no 
sooner falls from its Mother, but immediately and of his own 
accord applies it self to the Teat. Dumpier, in his Travels, 
tells us, that when Seamen are thrown upon any of the un¬ 
known Coasts of America, they never venture upon the Fruit 
of any Tree, how tempting soever it may appear, unless they 
observe that it is marked with the Pecking of Birds; but fall 



368 THE SPECTATOR No. i'll. Thursday, July i^, ijii 

on without any Fear or Apprehension where the Birds have 
been before them. 

But notwithstanding Animals have nothing like the use of 
Reason, we find in them all the lower Parts of our Nature, the 
Passions and Senses in their greatest Strength and Perfection. 
And here it is worth our Observation, that all Beasts and Birds 
of Prey are wonderfully subject to Anger, Malice, Revenge, and 
all the other violent Passions that may animate them in search 
of their proper Food; as those that are incapable of defending 
themselves, or annoying others, or whose Safety lies chiefly in 
their Flight, are suspicious, fearful and apprehensive of every 
thing they sec or hear; whilst others that are of Assistance and 
Use to Man, have their Natures softned with something mild 
and tractable, and by that means are qualified for a Domestick 
Life. In this case the Passions generally correspond with the 
Make of the Body. We do not find the Fury of a Lion in so 
weak and defenceless an Animal as a Lamb, nor the Meekness 
of a Lamb in a Creature so armed for Battle and Assault as the 
Lion. In the same manner, we find that particular Animals 
have a more or less exquisite Sharpness and Sagacity in those 
particular Senses which most turn to their Advantage, and in 
which their Safety and Welfare is the most concerned. 

Nor must we here omit that great Variety of Arms with 
which Nature has differently fortifyed the Bodies of several 
kind of Animals, such as Claws, Hoofs and Horns, Teeth and 
Tusks, a Tail, a Sting, a Trunk, or a Proboscis. It is likewise 
observed by Naturalists, that it must be some hidden Principle 
distinct from what we call Reason, which instructs Animals in 
the Use of these their Arms, and teaches them to manage 'em 
to the best Advantage; because they naturally defend them¬ 
selves with that part in which their Strength lies, before the 
Weapon be formed in it; as is remarkable in Lambs, which 
tho' they are bred within Doors, and never saw the Actions of 
their own Species, push at those who approach them with their 
Foreheads, before the first budding of a Horn appears. 

I shall add to these general Observations an Instance which 
Mr. Locke has given us of Providence, even in the Imperfec¬ 
tions of a Creature which seems the meanest and most despic¬ 
able in the whole animal World. We may, says he, from the 
Make of an Oyster, or Cockle, conclude, that it has not so many 
nor so quick Senses as a Man, or several other A nimals: Nor, if it 
had, would it, in that State and Incapacity of transferring it self 
from one Place to another, he bettered by them. What good would 
Sight and Hearing do to a Creature, that cannot move it self to or 
from the Object, wherein at a distance it perceives Good or Evil? 
And would not Quickness of Sensation be an Inconvenience to an 



No. 121. Thursday, July ig,iy 11 THE SPECTATOR 369 

Animal, that still must he where Chance has once placed it; and 
there receive the Afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul Water, as 
it happens to come to it ? 

I shall add to this Instance out of Mr. Locke, another out 
of the learned Dr. Moor, who cites it from Cardan, in relation 
to another Animal which Providence has left Defective, but 
at the same time has shewn its Wisdom in the Formation of 
that Organ in which it seems chiefly to have failed. What is 
more obvious and ordinary than a Mole? and yet what more 
palpable A rgument of Providence than she ? The Members of her 
Body are so exactly fitted to her Nature and Manner of Life: For 
her Dwelling being under Ground, where nothing is to he seen. 
Nature has so obscurely fitted her with Eyes, that Naturalists can 
scarce agree whether she have any Sight at all or no. But for 
amends, what she is capable of for her Defence and Warning of 
Danger, she has very eminently conferred upon her; for she is 
exceeding quick of Hearing. And then her short Tail and short 
Legs, hut broad Fore-feet armed with sharp Claws, we see by the 
Event to what purpose they are, she so swiftly working her self 
under Ground, and making her way so fast in the Earth, as they 
that behold it cannot hut admire. Her Legs therefore are short, 
that she need dig no more than will serve the meer Thickness of her 
Body; and her Fore-Feet are broad that she may scoup away much 
Earth at a time; and little or no Tail she has, because she courses 
it not on the Ground, like the Rat or Mouse, of whose Kindred 
she is, but lives under the Earth, and is fain to dig her self a 
Dwelling there. And she making her way through so thick an 
Element, which will not yield easily, as the Air or the Water, it 
had been dangerous to have drawn so long a Train behind her; 
for her Enemy might fall upon her Rear, and fetch her out before 
she had compleated or got full Possession of her Works. 

I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. Boyle’s Remark upon this 
last Creature, who, I remember, somewhere in his Works 
observes, that though the Mole be not totally blind (as it is 
commonly thought,) she has not Sight enough to distinguish 
particular Objects. Her Eye is said to have but one Humour 
in it, which is supposed to give her the Idea of Light, but of 
nothing else, and is so formed that this Idea is probably painful 
to the Animal. Whenever she comes up into broad Day she 
might be in Danger of being taken, unless she were thus 
affected by a Light striking upon her Eye and immediately 
warning her to bury her self in her proper Element. More 
Sight would be useless to her, as none at all might be fatal. 

I have only instanced such Animals as seem the most im¬ 
perfect Works of Nature; and if Providence shews it self even 
in the Blemishes of these Creatures, how much more does it 



370 THE SPECTATOR No. 121. Thursday, July ig, ly 11 

discover it self in the several Endowments which it has vari¬ 
ously bestowed upon such Creatures as are more or less finished 
and compleatcd in their several Faculties, according to the 
Condition of Life in which they are posted ? 

I could wish our Royal Society would compile a body of 
Natural History, the best that could be gathered together from 
Books and Observations. If the several Writers among them 
took each his particular Species, and gave us a distinct Account 
of its Original Birth and Education; its Policies, Hostilities 
and Alliances, with the Frame and Texture of its inward and 
outward Parts, and particularly those that distinguish it 
from all other Animals, with their peculiar Aptitudes for the 
State of Being in which Providence has placed them, it would 
be one of the best Services their Studies could do Mankind, and 
not a little redound to the Glory of the All-wise Contriver. 

It is true, such a Natural History, after all the Disquisitions 
of the Learned, would be infinitely short and Defective. Seas 
and Desarts hide Millions of Animals from our Observation. 
Innumerable Artifices and Stratagems are acted in the Howling 
Wilderness and in the Great Deep, that can never come to our 
Knowledge. Besides that there are infinitely more Species of 
Creatures which are not to be seen without, nor indeed with 
the help of the finest Glasses, than of such as are bulky enough 
for the naked Eye to take hold of. However, from the Con¬ 
sideration of such Animals as lie within the Compass of our 
Knowledge, we might easily form a Conclusion of the rest, 
that the same Variety of Wisdom and Goodness runs through 
the whole Creation, and puts every Creature in a condition to 
provide for its Safety and Subsistence in its proper Station. 

Tully has given us an admirable Sketch of Natural History, 
in his second Book concerning the Nature of the Gods; and that 
in a Stile so raised by Metaphors and Descriptions, that it 
lifts the Subject above Raillery and Ridicule, which frequently 
fall on such nice Observations, when they pass through the 
Hands of an ordinary Writer. L 


No. 122. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, July 20. 

Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. —Publ. Syr., Frag. 

A Man’s first Care should be to avoid the Reproaches of his 
own Heart; his next, to escape the Censures of the World: 
If the last interferes with the former, it ought to be entirely 
neglected; but otherwise, there cannot be a greater Satisfac- 



No. 122 . Friday, July 20, 11 THE SPECTATOR 371 

tion to an honest Mind, than to see those Approbations which 
it gives itself seconded by the Applauses of the Publick: A Man 
is more sure of his Conduct, when the Verdict which he passes 
upon his own Behaviour is thus warranted, and confirmed by 
the Opinion of all that know him. 

My worthy Friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only 
at Peace within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about 
him. He receives a suitable Tribute for his universal Benevo¬ 
lence to Mankind, in the Returns of Affection and Good-will, 
which are paid him by every one that lives within his Neigh¬ 
bourhood. I lately met with two or three odd Instances of 
that general Respect which is shewn to the good old Knight. 
He would needs carry Will. Wimble and myself with him to 
the County-Assizes; As we were upon the Road Will. Wimble 
joyned a couple of plain Men who rid before us, and conversed 
with them for some Time; during which my Friend Sir Roger 
acquainted me with their Characters. 

The first of them, says he, that has a Spaniel by his Side, is a 
Yeoman of about an hundred Pounds a Year, an honest Man: 
He is just within the Game-Act, and qualified to lull an Hare or 
a Pheasant: He knocks down a Dinner with his Gun twice or 
thrice a week; and by that Means lives much cheaper than those 
who have not so good an Estate as himself. He would be a 
good Neighbour if he did not destroy so many Partridges: in 
short, he is a very sensible Man; shoots flying; and has been 
several Times Foreman of the Petty-Jury. 

The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a Fellow 
famous for taking the Law of every Body. There is not one in 
the Town where he lives that he has not sued at a Quarter- 
Sessions. The Rogue had once the Impudence to go to Law 
with the Widow. His Head is full of Costs, Damages, and 
Ejectments: He plagued a couple of honest Gentlemen so long 
for a Trespass in breaking one of his Hedges, till he was forced 
to sell the Ground it enclosed to defray the Charges of the 
Prosecution: His Father left him fourscore Pounds a Year; but 
he has cast and been cast so often, that he is not now worth 
thirty. I suppose he is going upon the old Business of het 
Willow-Tree. 

As Sir Roger was giving me this Account of Tom Touchy, 
Will. Wimble and his two Companions stopped short till we 
came up to them. After having paid their Respects to Sir 
Roger, Will, told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to 
him upon a Dispute that arose between them. Will, it seems 
had been giving his Fellow Traveller an Account of his angling 
one Day in such a Hole; when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing 
out his Story, told him, that Mr. such an One, if he pleased. 



372 THE SPECTATOR No. 122. Friday, July 20, 1711 

might take the Law of him for fishing in that Part of the River. 
My Friend Sir Roger heard them both, upon a round Trot; 
and after having paused some Time told them, with the Air 
of a Man who would not give his Judgment rashly, that much 
might be said on both Sides. They were neither of them dis¬ 
satisfied with tlie Knight's Determination, because neither of 
them found himself in the Wrong by it: Upon which we made 
the best of our Way to the Assizes. 

The Court was sat before Sir Roger came, but notwith¬ 
standing all the Justices had taken their Places upon the 
Bench, they made Room for the old Knight at the Head of 
them; who for his Reputation in the Country took Occasion to 
whisper in the Judge's Ear, That he was glad his Lordship had 
met with so much good Weather in his Circuit. I was listening 
to the Proceedings of the Court with much Attention, and 
infinitely pleased with that great Appearance and Solemnity 
which so properly accompanies such a publick Administration 
of our Laws; when, after about an Hour's Sitting, I observed 
to my great Surprize, in the Mid.st of a Trial, that my Friend 
Sir Roger was getting up to speak. I was in some Pain for 
him, till I found he had acquitted himself of two or three 
Sentences, with a Look of much Business and great Intrepidity. 

Upon his first Rising the Court was hushed, and a general 
Whisper ran among the Country-People that Sir Roger was 
up. The Speech he made was so little to the Purpose, that I 
shall not trouble my Readers with an Account of it; and I 
believe was not so much designed by the Knight himself to 
inform the Court, as to give him a Figure in my Eye, and keep 
up his Credit in the Country. 

I was highly delighted, when the Court rose, to see the 
Gentlemen of the Country gathering about my old Friend, and 
striving who should compliment him most; at the same 'Time 
that the ordinary People gazed upon him at a Distance, not a 
little admiring his Courage, that was not afraid to speak to the 
Judge. 

In our Return home we met with a ver}'' odd Accident; which 
I cannot forbear relating, because it shews how desirous all 
who know Sir Roger are of giving him Marks of their Esteem. 
When we were arrived upon the Verge of his Estate, we stopped 
at a little Inn to rest our selves and our Horses. The Man of 
the House had it seems been formerly a Servant in the Knight's 
Family; and to do Honour to his old Master, had some Time 
since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a Sign-post before 
the Door; so that the Knight's Head had hung out upon the 
Road about a Week before he himself knew any thing of the 
Matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, finding 



No. 122. Friday, July 20, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 373 

that his Servant’s Indiscretion proceeded wholly from Affec¬ 
tion and Good-will, he only told him that he had made him too 
high a Compliment; and when the Fellow seemed to think 
that could hardly be, added with a more decisive Look, That it 
was too great an Honour for any Man under a Duke; but told 
him at the same time that it might be altered with a very few 
Touches, and that he himself would be at the Charge of it. 
Accordingly they got a Painter by the Knight’s Directions to 
add a pair of Whiskers to the Face, and by a little Aggravation 
of the Features to change it into the Saracen's Head. I should 
not have known this Story, had not the Inn-keeper upon Sir 
Roger’s alighting told him in my Hearing, That his Honour’s 
Head was brought back last Night with the Alterations that he 
had ordered to be made in it. Upon this my Friend with his 
usual Chearfulness related the Particulars above-mentioned, 
and ordered the Head to be brought into the Room. I could 
not forbear discovering greater Expressions of Mirth than 
ordinary upon the Appearance of this monstrous Face, under 
which, notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a 
most extraordinary Manner, I could still discover a distant 
Resemblance of my old Friend. Sir Roger, upon seeing mo 
laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it possible for 
People to know him in that Disguise. I at first kept my usual 
Silence; but upon the Knight's conjuring me to tell him 
whether it was not still more like himself than a Saracen, I 
composed my Countenance in the best Manner I could, and 
replied. That much might be said on both Sides. 

These several Adventures, with the Knight’s Behaviour in 
them, gave me as pleasant a Day as ever 1 met with in any 
of my Travels. L 


Saturday, July 21. 

Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam, 

Rectique cultus pectora roborant: 

Utcunque defecere mores. 

Dedecor ant bene nata culpae. —Hor. 

As I was Yesterday taking the Air with my Friend Sir Roger, 
we were met by a fresh-coloured ruddy young Man, who rid 
by us full Speed, with a couple of Servants behind him. Upon 
my enquiry, who he was. Sir Roger told me that he was a 
young Gentleman of a considerable Estate, who had been 
educated by a tender Mother that liv’d not many Miles from 
the Place where we were. She is a very good Lady, says my 


No. 123. 
[ADDISON.] 



374 THE SPECTATOR iVo. 123. Saturday, July 21 ^ ly 11 

Friend, but took so much Care of her Son*s Health that she has 
made him good for nothing. She quickly found that Reading 
was bad for his Eyes, and that Writing made his Head ake. 
He was let loose among the Woods as soon as he was able to 
ride on Horseback, or to carry a Gun upon his Shoulder. To 
be brief, I found, by my Friend’s Account of him, that he had 
got a great Stock of Health, but nothing else; and that if it 
were a Man’s Business only to live, there would not be a more 
accomplished young Fellow in the whole County. 

The Truth of it is, since my residing in these Parts I have 
seen and heard innumerable Instances of young Heirs and elder 
Brothers, who either from their own reflecting upon the Estates 
they are born to, and therefore thinking all other Accomplish¬ 
ments unnecessary, or from hearing these Notions frequently 
inculcated to them by the Flattery of their Servants and 
Domesticks, or from the same foolish Thought prevailing in 
those who have the Care of their Education, are of no manner 
of use but to keep up their Families, and transmit their Lands 
and Houses in a Line to Posterity. 

This makes me often think on a Story I have heard of two 
Friends, which I shall give my Reader at large, under feigned 
Names. The Moral of it may, I hope, be useful, though there 
are some Circumstances which make it rather appear like a 
Novel, than a true Story. 

Eudoxus and Leontine began the World with small Estates. 
They were both of them Men of good Sense and great Virtue. 
They prosecuted their Studies together in their earlier Years, 
and entered into such a Friendship as lasted to the End of their 
Lives. Eudoxus, at his first setting out in the World, threw 
himself into a Court, where by his natural Endowments and his 
acquired Abilities he made his way from one Post to another, 
till at length he had rai.sed a very considerable Fortune. 
Leontine on the contrary sought all Opportunities of improving 
his Mind by Study, Conversation and Travel. He was not 
only acquainted with all the Sciences, but with the most 
eminent Professors of them throughout Europe. He knew 
perfectly well the Interests of its Princes, with the Customs and 
Fashions of their Courts, and could scarce meet with the Name 
of an extraordinary Person in the Gazette whom he had not 
either talked to or seen. In short, he had so well mixt and 
digested his Knowledge of Men and Books, that he made one of 
the most accomplished Persons of his Age. During the whole 
course of his Studies and Travels he kept up a punctual 
Correspondence with Eudoxtis, who often made himself accept¬ 
able to the principal Men about Court by the Intelligence which 
he received from Leontine. When they were both turned of 



.No. 123. Saturday, July 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 375 

forty (an Age in which, according to Mr. Cowley, there is no 
dallying with Life) they determined, pursuant to the Resolu¬ 
tion they had taken in the beginning of their Lives, to retire, 
and pass the remainder of their Days in the Country. In order 
to this, they both of them married much about the same time. 
Leontine, with his own and his Wife's Fortune, bought a Farm 
of three hundred a Year, which lay within the Neighbourhood 
of his Friend Eudoxus, who had purchased an Estate of as many 
thousands. They were both of them Fathers about the same 
time, Eudoxus having a Son born to him and Leontine a 
Daughter; but to the unspeakable Grief of the latter, his young 
Wife (in whom all his Happiness was wrapped up) died in a few 
days after the Birth of her Daughter. His Affliction would 
have been insupportable, had not he been comforted by the 
daily Visits and Conversations of his Friend. As they were 
one Day talking together with their usual Intimacy, Leontine, 
considering how incapable he was of giving his Daughter a 
proper Education in his own House, and Eudoxus reflecting on 
the ordinary Behaviour of a Son who knows himself to be the 
Heir of a great Estate, they both agreed upon an Exchange of 
Children, namely that the Boy should be bred up with Leontine 
as his Son, and that the Girl should live with Eudoxus as his 
Daughter, till they were each of them arrived at Years of 
Discretion. The Wife of Eudoxus, knowing that her Son could 
not be so advantageously brought up as under the Care of 
Leontine, and considering at the same time that he would be 
perpetually under her own Eye, was by degrees prevailed upon 
to fall in with the Project. She therefore took Leonilla, for 
that was the Name of the Girl, and educated her as her own 
Daughter. The two Friends on each side had wrought them¬ 
selves to such an habitual Tenderness for the Children who were 
under their Direction, that each of them had the real Passion 
of a Father, where the Title was but imaginary. Florio, the 
Name of the young Heir that lived with Leontine, though he 
had all the Duty and Affection imaginable for his supposed 
Parent, was taught to rejoyce at the Sight of Eudoxus, who 
visited his Friend very frequently, and was dictated by his 
natural Affection, as well as by the Rules of Prudence, to make 
himself esteemed and beloved by Florio. The Boy was now 
old enough to know his supposed Father’s Circumstances, and 
that therefore he was to make his way in the World by his 
own Industry. This Consideration grew stronger in him every 
Day, and produced so good an Effect, that he applyed himself 
with more than ordinary Attention to the Pursuit of every 
thing which Leontine recommended to him. His natural 
Abilities, which were very good, assisted by the Directions of so 
I—n'** 



376 THE SPECTATOR JVo. 123. Saturday, July 21, ij 11 

excellent a Counsellor, enabled him to make a quicker Progress 
than ordinary through all the Parts of his Education. Before 
he was twenty Years of Age, having finished his Studies and 
Exercises with great Applause, he was removed from the 
University to the Inns of Court, where there are very few that 
make themselves considerable Proficients in the Studies of 
the Place, who know they shall arrive at great Estates with¬ 
out them. This was not Florio's Case; he found that three 
hundred a Year was but a poor Estate for Leontine and himself 
to live upon, so that he Studied without Intermission till he 
gained a very good Insight into the Constitution and Laws of 
his Country. 

I should have told my Reader, that whilst Florio lived at 
the House of his Foster-father he was always an acceptable 
Guest in the Family of Eudoxus, where he became acquainted 
with Leonilla from her Infancy. His Acquaintance with her 
by degrees grew into Love, which in a Mind trained up in all 
the Sentiments of Honour and Virtue became a very uneasy 
Passion. He despaired of gaining an Heiress of so great a 
Fortune, and would rather have died than attempted it by any 
indirect Methods. Leonilla, who was a Woman of the greatest 
Beauty joined with the greatest Modesty, entertained at the 
same time a secret Passion for Florio, but conducted her self 
with so much Prudence that she never gave him the least 
Intimation of it. Florio was now engaged in all those Arts and 
Improvements that are proper to raise a Man's private Fortune, 
and give him a Figure in his Coun^, but secretly tormented 
with that Passion which bums with the greatest Fury in a 
virtuous and noble Heart, when he received a sudden Summons 
from Leontine to repair to him into the Country the next Day. 
For it seems Eudoxus was so filled with the Report of his 
Son's Reputation, that he could no longer with-hold making 
himself known to him. The Morning after his Arrival at the 
House of his supposed Father, Leontine told him that Eudoxus 
had something of great Importance to communicate to him; 
upon which the good Man embraced him, and wept. Florio 
was no sooner arrived at the great House that stood in his 
Neighbourhood, but Eudoxus took him by the Hand, after the 
first Salutes were over, and conducted him into his Closet. 
He there opened to him the whole Secret of his Parentage and 
Education, concluding after this manner. I have no other way 
left of acknowledging my Gratitude to Leontine than by marrying 
you to his Daughter. He shall not lose the Pleasure of being 
your Father, by the discovery I have made to you. Leonilla too 
shall be still my Daughter; her filial Piety, though misplaced, has 
been so exemplary that it deserves the greatest Reward I can confer 



ATo. 123. Saturday^ July 21, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 377 

upon it. You shall have the Pleasure of seeing a great Estate 
fall to you, which you would have lost the Relish of had you known 
your self born to it. Continue only to deserve it in the same manner 
you did before you were possessed of it. I have left your Mother 
in the next Room. Her Heart yearns towards you. She is 
making the same Discoveries to Leonilla which I have made to 
yourself. Florio was so overwhelmed with this Profiisicm of 
Happiness, that he was not able to make a Reply, but threw 
himself down at his Father's Feet, and amidst a Flood of Tears, 
kissed and embraced his Knees, asking his Blessing, and ex¬ 
pressing in dumb Show those Sentiments of Love, Duty and 
Gratitude that were too big for Utterance. To conclude, the 
happy Pair were married, and half Eudoxus's Estate settled 
upon them. Leontine and Eudoxus i)assed the Remainder of 
their Lives together; and received in the dutiful and affection¬ 
ate Behaviour of Florio and Leonilla the just Recompence, as 
well as the natural Effects, of that Care which they had be¬ 
stowed upon them in their Education. L 


No. 124. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, July 23. 

^ipXlov, /x4ya xaKdv. 

A MAN who publishes his Works in a Volume, has an infinite 
Advantage over one who communicates his Writings to the 
World in loose Tracts and single Pieces. We do not expect 
to meet with any thing in a bulky Volume, till after some heavy 
Preamble, and several Words of Course, to prepare the Reader 
for what follows: Nay, Authors have established it as a Kind 
of Rule, That a Man ought to be dull sometimes; as the most 
severe Reader makes Allowances for many Rests and Nodding- 
places in a Voluminous Writer. This gave Occasion to the 
famous Greek Proverb which 1 have chosen for my Motto, 
That a great Book is a great Evil. 

On the contrary, those who publish their Thoughts in distinct 
Sheets, and as it were by Piece-meal, have none of these 
Advantages. We must immediately fall into our Subject, and 
treat every part of it in a lively Manner, or our Papers are 
thrown by as dull and insipid: Our Matter must lie close 
together, and either be wholly new in itself, or in the Turn it 
receives from our Expressions. Were the Books of our best 
Authors thus to be retailed to the Publick, and every Page 
submitted to the Taste of forty or fifty thousand Readers, I 
am afraid we should complain of many flat Expressions, trivial • 



378 THE SPECTATOR iVo. 124. Monday, July 7"^, 11 

Observations, beaten Topicks, and common Thoughts, which 
go off very well in the Lump. At the same Time, notwith¬ 
standing some Papers may be made up of broken Hints and 
irregular Sketches, it is often expected that every Sheet should 
be a kind of Treatise, and make out in Thought what it wants in 
Bulk: That a Point of Humour should be worked up in all its 
Parts: and a Subject touched upon in its most essential 
Articles, without the Repetitions, Tautologies, and Enlarge¬ 
ments that are indulged to longer Labours. The ordinary 
Writers of Morality prescribe to their Readers after the Gale- 
nick Way; their Medicines are made up in large Quantities. 
An Essay Writer must practise in the Chymical Method, and 
give the Virtue of a full Draught in a few Drops. Were all 
Books reduced thus to their Quintessence, many a bulky 
Author would make his Appearance in a Penny Paper: There 
would be scarce such a thing in Nature as a Folio: The Works 
of an Age would be contained on a few Shelves; not to mention 
Millions of Volumes that would be utterly annihilated. 

I cannot think that the Difficulty of furnishing out separate 
Papers of this Nature has hindered Authors from communicat¬ 
ing their Thoughts to the World after such a Manner: Though 
I must confess I am amazed that the Press should be only 
made use of in this Way by News-Writers, and the Zealots of 
Parties: as if it were not more advantageous to Mankind to be 
instructed in Wisdom and Virtue, than in Politicks; and to be 
made good Fathers, Husbands, and Sons, than Counsellors and 
Statesmen. Had the Philosophers and great Men of Antiquity, 
who took so much Pains in order to instruct Mankind, and 
leave the World wiser and better than they found it; had they, 
I say, been possessed of the Art of Printing, there is no Question 
but they would have made such an Advantage of it, in dealing 
out their Lectures to the Publick. Our common Prints would 
be of great Use were they thus calculated to diffuse good Sense 
through the Bulk of a People, to clear up their Understandings, 
animate their Minds with Virtue, dissipate the Sorrows of a 
heavy Heart, or unbend the Mind from its more severe Employ¬ 
ments with innocent Amusements. When Knowledge, instead 
of being bound up in Books, and kept in Libraries and Retire¬ 
ments, is thus obtruded upon the Publick; when it is canvassed 
in every Assembly, and exposed upon every Table; I cannot 
forbear reflecting upon that Passage in the Proverbs, Wisdom 
cryeth without, she uttereth her Voice in the Streets rShe cryeth in 
the chief Place of Concourse, .in the Openings of the Gates. In 
the City she uttereth her Words, saying, How long, ye simple ones, 
will ye love Simplicity ? and the Scomers delight in their Scorning? 
and Fools hate Knowledge? 



No. 124. Monday, July 23, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 379 

The many Letters which come to me from Persons of the 
best Sense in both Sexes (for I may pronounce their Characters 
from their Way of Writing) do not a little encourage me in the 
Prosecution of this my Undertaking: Besides that, my Book¬ 
seller tells me, the Demand for these my Papers increases daily. 
It is at his Instance that I shall continue my rural Speculations 
to the End of this Month; several having made up separate 
Sets of them, as they have done before of those relating to Wit, 
to Operas, to Points of Morality, or Subjects of Humour. 

I am not at all mortified, when sometimes I see my Works 
thrown aside by Men of no Taste nor Learning. There is a 
kind of Heaviness and Ignorance that hangs upon the Minds of 
ordinary Men, which is too thick for Knowledge to break 
through: Their Souls are not to be enlightned, 

. . . Nox atra cava circumvolat umbra. 

To these I must apply the Fable of the Mole, That after 
having consulted many Oculists for the bettering of his Sight, 
was at last provided with a good Pair of Spectacles; but upon 
his endeavouring to make use of them, his Mother told him 
very prudently, ‘ That Spectacles, though they might help the 
Eye of a Man, could be of no use to a Mole.' It is not therefore 
for the Benefit of Moles that I publish these my daily Essays. 

But besides such as are Moles through Ignorance, there are 
others who are Moles through Envy. As it is said in the Latin 
Proverb, ‘That one Man is a Woolf to another;’ so, generally 
speaking, one Author is a Mole to another Author. It is im¬ 
possible for them to discover Beauties in one another's Works; 
they have Eyes only for Spots and Blemishes: They can indeed 
see the Light, as it is said of the Animals which are their 
Namesakes, but the Idea of it is painful to them; they immedi¬ 
ately shut their Eyes upon it, and withdraw themselves into a 
wilful Obscurity. I have already caught two or three of these 
dark undermining Vermin, and intend to make a String of 
them, in order to hang them up in one of my Papers, as an 
Example to such voluntary Moles. C 


No. 125. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, July 24. 

Ne, pueri, ne tanta animis assuescite bella: 

Neu patriae validas in viscera vertite vires. —Virg. 

My worthy Friend Sir Roger, when we are talking of the 
Malice of Parties, very frequently tells us an Accident that 
happened to him when he was a School-Boy, which was at the 



380 THE SPECTATOR No. 125. Tuesday, July 24, 1711 

Time when the Feuds ran high between the Round-heads and 
Cavaliers. This worthy Knight being then but a Strippling, 
had Occasion to enquire which was the Way to St. Anne's 
Lane, upon which the Person whom he spoke to, instead of 
answering his Question, called him a young Popish Cur, and 
asked him who had made Anne a Saint? The Boy being in 
some Confusion, enquired of the next he met, which was the 
Way to Anne's Lane; but was called a Prick-eared Cur for his 
Pains, and instead of being shewn the Way, was told, that she 
had been a Saint before he was born, and would be one after 
he was hanged. ‘ Upon this,' says Sir Roger, ‘ I did not think 
fit to repeat the former Question, but going into every Lane of 
the Neighbourhood, asked what they called the Name of that 
Lane.’ By which ingenious Artifice he found out the Place 
he enquired after, without giving Offence to any Party. Sir 
Roger generally closes this Narrative with Reflections on the 
Mischief that Parties do in the Country; how they spoil good 
Neighbourhood, and make honest Gentlemen hate one another; 
besides that they manifestly tend to the Prejudice of the 
Land-Tax, and the Destruction of the Game. 

There cannot a greater Judgment befall a Country than such 
a dreadful Spirit of Division as rends a Government into two 
distinct People, and makes them greater Strangers and more 
averse to one another, than if they were actually two different 
Nations. The Effects of such a Division are pernicious to the 
last degree, not only with Regard to those Advantages which 
they give the Common Enemy, but to those private Evils which 
they produce in the Heart of almost every particular Person. 
This Influence is very fatal both to Men's Morals and their 
Understandings; It sinks the Virtue of a Nation, and not only 
so, but destroys even Common Sense. 

A furious Party-Spirit, when it rages in its full Violence, 
exerts it self in Civil War and Bloodshed; and when it is 
under its greatest Restraints naturally breaks out in Falshood, 
Detraction, Calumny, and a partial Administration of Justice. 
In a Word, It fills a Nation with Spleen and Rancour, and ex¬ 
tinguishes all the Seeds of Good-Nature, Compassion and 
Humanity. 

Plutarch says very finely. That a Man should not allow him¬ 
self to hate even his Enemies, because, says he, if you indulge 
this Passion in some Occasions, it will rise of it self in others; 
if you hate your Enemies, you will contract such a vicious 
Habit of Mind, as by Degrees will break out upon those who are 
your Friends, or those who are indifferent to you. I might 
here observe how admirably this Precept of Morality (which 
derives the Malignity of Hatred from the Passion it self, and 



No. 125. Tuesday, July 2/^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 381 

not from its Object) answers to that great Rule which was 
dictated to the World about an Hundred Years before the. 
Philosopher wrote; but instead of that, I shall only take noticin 
with a real Grief of Heart, that the Minds of many good Med 
among us appear sowered with Party-Principles, and alienater 
from one another in such a manner, as seems to me altogethes 
inconsistent with the Dictates either of Reason or Religion. 
Zeal for a Publick Cause is apt to breed Passions in the Hearts 
of virtuous Persons, to which the Regard of their own private 
Interest would never have betrayed them. 

If this Party-Spirit has so ill an Effect on our Morals, it has 
likewise a very great one upon our Judgments. We often 
hear a poor insipid Paper or Pamphlet cryed up, and sometimes 
a noble Piece depreciated, by those who are of a different 
Principle from the Author. One who is actuated by this 
Spirit is almost under an Incapacity of discerning either real 
Blemishes or Beauties. A man of Merit in a different Principle, 
is like an Object seen in two different Mediums, that appears 
crooked or broken, however streight and entire it may be in 
it self. For this Reason there is scarce a Person of any Figure 
in England who does not go by two contrary Characters, as 
opposite to one another as Light and Darkness. Knowledge 
and Learning suffer in a particulcir manner from this strange 
Prejudice, which at present prevails amongst all Ranks and 
Degrees in the British Nation. As Men formerly became 
eminent in learned Societies by their Parts and Acquisitions, 
they now distinguish themselves by the Warmth and Violence 
with which they espouse their respective Parties. Books are 
valued upon the like Considerations: An Abusive Scurrilous 
Style passes for Satyr, and a dull Scheme of Party-Notions is 
called fine Writing. 

There is one Piece of Sophistry practised by both Sides, 
and that is the taking any scandalous Story that has been 
ever whispered or invented of a private Man, for a known 
undoubted Truth, and raising suitable Speculations upon it. 
Calumnies that have been never proved, or have been often 
refuted, are the ordinary Postulatums of these infamous 
Scribblers, upon which they proceed as upon first Principles 
granted by all Men, though in their Hearts they know they are 
false, or at best very doubtful. When they have laid these 
Foundations of Scurrility, it is no wonder that their Super¬ 
structure is every way answerable to them. If this shameless 
Practice of the present Age endures much longer, Praise and 
Reproach will cease to be Motives of Action in good Men. 

There are certain Periods of Time in all Governments when 
this inhuman Spirit prevails. Italy was long torn in pieces 



382 THE SPECTATOR No. 125. Tuesday, July 24, 1711 

by the Guelfes and Gihellines, and France by those who were 
for and against the League: But it is very unhappy for a Man 
to be bom in such a stormy and tempestuous Season. It is 
the restless Ambition of Artful Men that thus breaks a People 
into Factions, and draws several well-meaning Persons to their 
Interest by a Specious Concern for their Country. How many 
honest Minds are filled with uncharitable and barbarous 
Notions, out of their Zeal for the Publick Good? What 
Cruelties and Outrages would they not commit against Men of 
an adverse Party, whom they would honour and esteem, if 
instead of considering them as they are represented, they knew 
them as they are ? Thus are Persons of the greatest Probity 
seduced into shameful Errors and Prejudices, and made bad 
Men even by that noblest of Principles, the Love of their 
Country. I cannot here forbear mentioning the famous 
Spanish Proverb, Jf there were neither Fools nor Knaves in the 
World, all People would he of one Mind. 

For my own Part, I could heartily wish that all Honest Men 
would enter into an Association, for the Support of one another 
against the Endeavours of those whom they ought to look upon 
as their Common Enemies, whatsoever side they may belong to. 
Were there such an honest Body of Neutral Forces, we should 
never see the worst of Men in great Figures of Life, because 
they are useful to a Party; nor the best unregarded, because 
they are above practising those Methods which would be 
grateful to their Faction. We should then single every 
Criminal out of the Herd, and hunt him down, however for¬ 
midable and overgrown he might appear: On the contrary, we 
should shelter distressed Innocence, and defend Virtue, how¬ 
ever beset with Contempt or Ridicule, Envy or Defamation. 
In short, we should not any longer regard our Fellow-Subjects 
as Whigs or Tories, but should make the Man of Merit our 
Friend, and the Villain our Enemy. C 


No. 126. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, July 25. 

Tros RtUulusve fiat, nullo discrimine habebo. —Virg. 

In my Yesterday’s Paper I proposed, that the honest Men of 
all Parties should enter into a Kind of Association for the 
Defence of one another, and the Confusion of their common 
Enemies. As it is designed fhis neutral Body should act with a 
Regard to nothing but Truth and Equity, and divest themselves 
of the little Heats and Prepossessions that cleave to Parties 



No.126. Wednesday, July 2$, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 383 

of all Kinds, I have prepared for them the following Form of 
an Association, which may express their Intentions in the most 
plain and simple Manner. 

We whose Names are hereunto subscribed do solemnly declare, 
that we do in our Consciences believe two and two make four; and 
that we shall adjudge any Man whatsoever to be our Enemy who 
endeavours to perswade us to the contrary. We are likewise ready 
to maintain, with the Hazard of all that is near and dear to us, 
that six is less than seven in all Times and all Places; and that 
ten will not be more three Years hence than it is at present. We do 
also firmly declare, that it is our Resolution as long as we live to 
call black black, and white white. And we shall upon all Occa¬ 
sions oppose such Persons that upon any Day of the Year shall 
call black white, or white black, with the utmost Peril of our Lives 
and Fortunes. 

Were there snch a Combination of honest Men, who with¬ 
out Regard to Places would endeavour to extirpate all such 
furious Zealots as would sacrifice one half of their Country to 
the Passion and Interest of the other; as also such infamous 
Hypocrites, that are for promoting their own Advantage, under 
Colour of the Publick Good; with all the profligate immoral 
Retainers to each Side, that have nothing to recommend them 
but an implicit Submission to their Leaders; we should soon 
see that furious Party-Spirit extinguished, which may in Time 
expose us to the Derision and Contempt of all the Nations 
about us. 

A Member of this Society, that would thus carefully employ 
himself in making Room for Merit, by throwing down the worth¬ 
less and depraved Part of Mankind from those conspicuous 
Stations of Life to which they have been sometimes advanced, 
and all this without any Regard to his private Interest, would 
be no small Benefactor to his Country. 

I remember to have read in Diodorus Siculus an Account of 
a very active little Animal, which I think he calls the Ichneu¬ 
mon, that makes it the whole Business of his Life to break the 
Eggs of the Crocodile, which he is always in search after. This 
Instinct is the more remarkable, because the Ichneumon nevei 
feeds upon the Eggs he has broken, nor any other Way finds 
his Account in them. Were it not for the incessant Labours 
of this industrious Animal. Aegypt, says the Historian, would 
be over-run with Crocodiles; for the Aegyptians are so far 
from destroying those pernicious Creatures, that they worship 
them as Gods. 

If we look into the Behaviour of ordinary Partizans, we shall 
find them far from resembling this disinterested Animal; and 
rather acting after the Example of the wild Tartars, who are 

104 



384 THE SPECTATOR No. 126. Wednesday, July 25,1711 

ambitious of destroying a Man of the most extraordinary 
Parts and Accomplishments, as thinking that upon his De¬ 
cease the same Talents, whatever Post they qualified him for, 
enter of Course into his Destroyer. 

As in the whole Train of my Speculations, I have endeavoured 
as much as I am able to extinguish that pernicious Spirit of 
Passion and Prejudice, which rages with the same Violence in 
all Parties, I am still the more desirous of doing some Good in 
this Particular, because I observe that the Spirit of Party 
reigns more in the Country than in the Town. It here contracts 
a kind of Brutality and rustick Fierceness, to which Men of a 
Politer Conversation are wholly Strangers. It extends it self 
even to the Return of the Bow and the Hat; and at the same 
Time that the Heads of Parties preserve towards one another 
an outward ShoW of good Breeding, and keep up a perpetual 
Intercourse of Civilities, their Tools that are dispersed in these 
outlying Parts will not so much as mingle together at a Cock- 
Match. This Humour fills the Country with several periodical 
Meetings of Whig Jockeys and Tory Fox-hunters; not to 
mention the innumerable Curses, Frowns, and Whispers it 
produces at a Quarter-Sessions. 

I do not know whether I have observed in any of my former 
Papers, that my Friends Sir Roger de Coverley and Sir 
Andrew Freeport are of different Principles, the first of them 
inclined to the landed and the other to the moneyed Interest. 
This Humour is so moderate in each of them, that it proceeds 
no farther than to an agreeable Raillery, which very often 
diverts the rest of the Club. I find however that the Knight is 
a much stronger Tory in the Country than in Town, which, 
as he has told me in my Ear, is absolutely necessary for the 
keeping up his Interest. In all our Journey from London to 
his House we did not so much as bait at a Whig Inn; or if by 
Chance the Coachman stopped at a wrong Place, one of Sir 
Roger's Servants would ride up to his Master full Speed, and 
whisper to him that the Master of the House was against such 
an one in the last Election. This often betrayed us into 
hard Beds and bad Cheer; for we were not so inquisitive 
about the Inn as the Inn-keeper; and provided our Landlord’s 
Principles were sound, did not take any Notice of the Staleness 
of his Provisions. This I found still the more inconvenient, 
because the better the Host was, the worse generally were his 
Accommodations; the Fellow knowing very well, that those 
who were his Friends would take up with coarse Diet and an 
hard Lodging. For these Reasons, all the while I was upon 
the Road I dreaded entering into an House of any one that 
Sir Roger had applauded for an honest Man. 



No. 126. Wednesday, July 2$, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 385 

Since my stay at Sir Roger’s in the Country, I daily find 
more Instances of this narrow Party-Humour. Being upon a 
Bowling-Green at a neighbouring Market-Town the other 
Day, (for that is the Place where the Gentlemen of one Side 
meet once a Week) I observed a Stranger among them of a 
better Presence and genteeler Behaviour than ordinary; but 
was much surprized, that notwithstanding he was a very fair 
Bettor, no Body would take him up. But upon Enquiry I 
found, that he was one who had given a disagreeable Vote in a 
former Parliament, for which Reason there was not a Man upon 
that Bowling-Green who would have so much Correspondence 
with him as to win his Money of him. 

Among other Instances of this Nature I must not omit 
one which concerns my self. Will Wimble was the other Day 
relating several strange Stories that he had picked up no Body 
knows where of a certain great Man; and upon my staring at 
him, as one that was surprized to hear such things in the 
Country which had never been so much as whispered in the 
Town, Will stopped short in the Thread of his Discour.se, and 
after Dinner asked my Friend Sir Roger in his Ear if he was 
sure that I was not a Fanatick. 

It gives me a serious Concern to see such a Spirit of Dissen- 
tion in the Country; not only as it destroys Virtue and common 
Sense, and renders us in a manner Barbarians towards one 
another, but as it perpetuates our Animosities, widens our 
Breaches, and transmits our present Passions and Prejudices 
to our Posterity. For my own Part, I am sometimes afraid 
that I discover the Seeds of a Civil War in these our Divisions; 
and therefore cannot but bewail, as in their first Principles, the 
Miseries and Calamities of our Children. C 


No. 127. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, July 26. 

. . . Quantum est in rebus inane.^ —Pers. 

It is our Custom at Sir Roger’s, upon the coming in of the 
Post to sit about a Pot of Coffee, and hear the old Knight read 
Dyer’s Letter; which he does with his Spectacles upon his 
Nose, and in an audible Voice, smiling very often at those little 
Strokes of Satyr which are so frequent in the Writings of 
that Author. I afterwards communicate to the Knight such 
Packets as I receive under the QuaUty of Spectator. The 
following Letter chancing to please him more than ordinary, I 
shall publish it at his Request. 



386 THE SPECTATOR No. 127. Thursday, July 26, 1711 
* Mr. Spectator, 

You have diverted the Town almost a whole Month at the 
Expence of the Country, it is now high time that you should 
give the Country their Revenge. Since your withdrawing from 
this Place, the fair Sex are run into great Extravagancies. 
Their Petticoats, which began to heave and swell before you 
left us, are now blown up into a most enormous Concave, and 
rise every Day more and more: In short. Sir, since our Women 
know themselves to be out of the Eye of the Spectator, they 
will be kept within no Compass. You praised them a little 
too soon, for the Modesty of their Head-dresses; For as the 
Humour of a Sick Person is often driven out of one Limb into 
anotlier, their Superfluity of Ornaments, instead of being 
entirely Banished, seems only fallen from their Heads upon 
their lower Parts. What they have lost in Heighth they make 
up in Breadth, and contrary to all Rules of Architecture widen 
the Foundations at the same time that they shorten the Super¬ 
structure. Were they, like Spanish Jennets, to impregnate 
by the Wind, they could not have thought on a more proper 
Invention. But as we do not yet hear any particular Use in 
this Petticoat, or that it contains any thing more than what 
was supposed to be in those of Scantier Make, we are wonder¬ 
fully at a loss about it. 

The Women give out, in Defence of these wide Bottoms, 
that they are Airy, and very proper for the Season; but this I 
look upon to be only a Pretence, and a piece of Art, for it is 
well known we have not had a more moderate Summer these 
many Years, so that it is certain the Heat they complain of 
cannot be in the Weather: Besides, I would fain ask these 
tender-constitution’d Ladies, why they should require more 
Cooling than their Mothers before them. 

I And several Speculative Persons are of Opinion that our 
Sex has of late Years been very Saucy, and that the Hoop- 
Petticoat is made use of to keep us at a Distance. It is most 
certain that a Woman’s Honour cannot be better entrenched 
than after this manner, in Circle within Circle, amidst such a 
Variety of Outworks and Lines of Circumvallation. A Fe¬ 
male who is thus invested in Whale-Bone is sufficiently 
secured against the Approaches of an ill-bred Fellow, who 
might as well think of Sir George Etheridge's way of making 
Love in a Tub, as in the midst of so many Hoops. 

Among these various Conjectures, there are Men of Super¬ 
stitious Tempers, who look upon the Hoop-Petticoat as a kind 
of Prodigy. Some will have it that it portends the Downfall of 
the French King, and observe that the Farthingale appeared in 
England a little before the Ruin of the Spanish Monarchy. 



No. 127. Thursday, July 26. tyit THE SPECTATOR 389 

Others are of Opinion that it foretells Battle and Bloot^^^® 
and believe it of the same Prognostication as the Tail 
Blazing Star. For my part, I am apt to think it is a Sign thd^ 
Multitudes are coming into the World, rather than going out 
of it. 

The first time I saw a Lady dressed in one of these Petticoats, 

I could not forbear blaming her in my own Thoughts for 
walking abroad when she was so near her Time, but soon 
recovered my self out of my Errour, yrhen I found all the 
Modish Part of the Sex as far gone as her self. It is generally 
thought some crafty Women have thus betrayed their Com¬ 
panions into Hoops, that they might make them accessary to 
their own Concealments, and by that means escape the Censure 
of the World; as wary Generals have sometimes dressed two or 
three dozen of their Friends in their own Habit, that they might 
not draw upon themselves any particular Attacks from the 
Enemy, The strutting Petticoat smooths all Distinctions, 
levels the Mother with the Daughter, and sets Maids and 
Matrons, Wives and Widows, upon the same bottom. In the 
mean while, I cannot but be troubled to see so many well 
shaped innocent Virgins bloated up, and waddling up and down 
like big-bellied Women. 

Should this Fashion get among the ordinary People, our 
publick Ways would be so crouded that we should want 
Street-room. Several Congregations of the best Fashion find 
themselves already very much streightned, and if the Mode 
encrease I wish it may not drive many ordinary Women into 
Meetings and Conventicles. Should our Sex at the same time 
take it into their Heads to wear Trunk Breeches (as who knows 
what their Indignation at this Female Treatment may drive 
them to?) a Man and his Wife would fill a whole Pew. 

You know. Sir, it is recorded of Alexander the Great, that in 
his Indian Expedition he buried several Suits of Armour which 
by his Directions were made much too big for any of his 
Soldiers, in order to give Posterity an extraordinary Idea of 
him, and make them believe he had commanded an Army of 
Giants. I am persuaded that if one of the present Petticoats 
happens to be hung up in any Repository of Curiosities, it will 
lead into the same Error the Generations that lie some Re¬ 
moves from us; unless we can believe our Posterity will think 
so disrespectfully of their Great Grandmothers, that they made 
themselves Monstrous to appear Amiable. 

When I survey this new-fashioned Rotonda in all its Parts, 

I cannot but think of the old Philosopher, who after having 
entered into an Egyptian Temple, and looked about for the 
Idol of the Place, at leng^th discovered a little black Monkey • 



388 THE SPECTATOR No. 127, Thursday, July 26, 1711 

enshrined in the midst of it, upon which he could not forbear 
crying out (to the great Scandal of the Worshipers,) What a 
magnificent Palace is here for such a Ridiculous Inhabitant! 

Though you have taken a Resolution, in one of your Papers, 
to avoid descending to Particularities of Dress, I believe you 
will not think it below you, on so extraordinary an Occasion, 
to Unhoop the fair Sex, and cure this fashionable Tympany 
that is got among them. I am apt to think the Petticoat will 
shrink of its own Accord at your first coming to Town; at least 
a Touch of your Pen will make it contract it self, like the Sensi¬ 
tive Plant, and by that means oblige several who are either 
terrifyed or astonished at this portentous Novelty, and among 
the rest, 

C Your Humble Servant, &c.' 


No. 128. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, July 27. 

. . ; Concordia discors. —Luc. 

Women in their Nature are much more gay and joyous than 
Men; whether it be that their Blood is more refined, their 
Fibres more delicate, and their animal Spirits more light and 
volatile; or whether, as some have imagined, there may not be 
a kind of Sex in the very Soul, I shall not pretend to determine. 
As Vivacity is the Gift of Women, Gravity is that of Men. 
They should each of them therefore keep a Watch upon the 
particular Biass which Nature has fixed in their Minds, that 
it may not draw too much, and lead them out of the Paths of 
Reason. This will certainly happen, if the one in every Word 
and Action affects the Character of being rigid and severe, and 
the other of being brisk and airy. Men should beware of being 
captivated by a kind of savage Philosophy, Women by a 
thoughtless Gallantry. Where these Precautions are not ob¬ 
served, the Man often degenerates into a Cynick, the Woman 
into a Coquet; the Man grows sullen and morose, the Woman 
impertinent and fantastical. 

By what I have said we may conclude. Men and Women 
were made as Counterparts to one another, that the Pains and 
Anxieties of the Husband might be relieved by the Sprightli¬ 
ness and good Humour of the Wife. When these are rightly 
tempered. Care and Chearfulness go Hand in Hand; and the 
Family, like a Ship that is duly trimmed, wants neither Sail 
nor Ballast. 

Natural Historians observe, (for whilst I am in the Country 



No. 128. Friday, July 2^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 389 

I must fetch my Allusions from thence) That only the Male 
Birds have Voices; That their Songs begin a little before 
Breeding-time, and end a little after: That whilst the Hen is 
covering her Eggs, the Male generally takes his Stand upon a 
neighbouring Bough within her Hearing; and by that Means 
amuses and diverts her with his Songs during the whole Time 
of her Sitting. 

This Contract among Birds lasts no longer than till a Brood 
of young ones arises from it; so that in the feather'd Kind, the 
Cares and Fatigues of the married State, if I may so call it, 
lie principally upon the Female. On the contrary, as in our 
Species the Man and the Woman are joyned together for Life, 
and the main Burden rests upon the former, Nature has given 
all the little Arts of soothing and Blandishment to the Female, 
that she may chear and animate her Companion in a constant 
and assiduous Application to the making a Provision for his 
Family, and the educating of their common Children. This 
however is not to be taken so strictly, as if the same Duties 
were not often reciprocal, and incumbent on both Parties; but 
only to set forth what seems to have been the general Intention 
of Nature, in the different Inclinations and Endowments which 
are bestowed on the different Sexes. 

But whatever was the Reason that Man and Woman were 
made with this Variety of Temper, if we observe the Conduct 
of the fair Sex, we find that they choose rather to associate 
themselves with a Person who resembles them in that light and 
volatile Humour which is natural to them, than to such as are 
qualified to moderate and counter-ballance it. It has been an 
old Complaint, That the Coxcomb carries it with them before 
the Man of Sense. When we see a Fellow loud and talkative, 
full of insipid Life and Laughter, we may venture to pronounce 
him a female Favourite: Noise and Flutter are such Accomplish¬ 
ments as they cannot withstand. To be short, the Passion 
of an ordinary Woman for a Man, is nothing else but Self- 
love diverted upon another Object: She would have the Lover 
a Woman in every thing but the Sex. I do not know a finer 
Piece of Satyr on this Part of Womankind, than those Lines 
of Mr. Dryden, 

Our thoughtless Sex is caught by outward Form 

And empty Noise, and loves it self in Man. 

This is a Source of infinite Calamities to the Sex, as it 
frequently joins them to Men who in their own Thoughts are 
as fine Creatures as themselves; or if they chance to be good- 
humoured, serve only to dissipate their Fortunes, inflame their 
Follies, and aggravate their Indiscretions. 



390 THE SPECTATOR No. 128. Friday, July 27, 1711 

The same female Levity is no less fatal to them after Marriage 
than before: It represents to their Imaginations the faith¬ 
ful prudent Husband as an honest tractable and domestick 
Aniirial; and turns their Thoughts upon the fine gay Gentle¬ 
man that laughs, sings, and dresses so much more agreeably. 

As this irregular Vivacity of Temper leads astray the Hearts 
of ordinary Women in the Choice of their Lovers and the 
Treatment of their Husbands, it operates with the same perni¬ 
cious Influence towards their Children, who are taught to 
accomplish themselves in all those sublime Perfections that 
appear captivating in the Eye of their Mother. She admires 
in her Son what she loved in her Gallant; and by that Means 
contributes all she can to perpetuate her self in a worthless 
Progeny. 

The younger Faustina was a lively Instance of this Sort 
of Women. Notwithstanding she was married to Marcus 
Aurelius, one of the greatest, wisest, and best of the Roman 
Emperors, she thought a common Gladiator much the prettier 
Gentleman; and had taken such Care to accomplish her Son 
Commodus according to her own Notions of a fine Man, that 
when he ascended the Throne of his Father, he became the 
most foolish and abandoned Tyrant that was ever placed at 
the Head of the Roman Empire, signalizing himself in nothing 
but the fighting of Prizes, and knocking out Men's Brains. 
As he had no Taste of true Glory, we see him in several Medals 
and Statues which are still extant of him, equipped like an 
Hercules with a Club and a Lion’s Skin. 

I have been led into this Speculation by the Characters I 
have heard of a Country-Gentleman and his Lady, who do not 
live many Miles from Sir Roger. The Wife is an old Coquet, 
that is always hankering after the Diversions of the Town; 
the Husband a morose Rustick, that frowns and frets at the 
Name of it: The Wife is over-run with Affectation, the Husband 
sunk into Brutality: The Lady cannot bear the Noise of the 
Larks and Nightingales, hates your Tedious Summer-Days, and 
is sick at the Sight of shady Woods and purling Streams; 
the Husband wonders how any one can be pleased with the 
Fooleries of Plays and Operas, and rails from Morning to Night 
at essenced Fops and tawdry Courtiers. The Children are 
educated in these different Notions of their Parents. The 
Sons follow the Father about his Grounds, while the Daughters 
read Volumes of Love-Letters and Romances to their Mother. 
By this Means it comes to pass, that the Girls look upon their 
Father as a Clown, and the Boys think their Mother no better 
than she should be. 

How different are the Lives of Aristus and A spatial The 



No. 12%. Friday, July 27, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 391 

innocent Vivacity of the one is tempered and composed by the 
chearful Gravity of the other. The Wife grows Wise by the 
Discourses of the Husband, and the Husband good*humour’d 
by the Conversations of the Wife. Aristus would not be so 
amiable were it not for his Aspatia, nor Aspatia so much to be 
esteemed were it not for her Aristus. Their Virtues are 
blended in their Children, and diffuse through the whole 
Family a perpetual Spirit of Benevolence, Complacency, and 
Satisfaction. C 


No. 129. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, July 28. 

Vertentem sese frustra sectahere canthum. 

Cum rota posterior curras in axe secundo. —Pers. 

Great Masters in Painting never care for drawing People in 
the Fashion; as very well knowing that the Head-dress, or 
Periwig, that now prevails, and gives a Grace to their Por¬ 
traitures at present, will make a very odd Figure, and perhaps 
look monstrous, in the Eyes of Posterity. For this Reason 
they often represent an illustrious Person in a Roman Habit, 
or in some other Dress that never varies. I could wish, for the 
sake of my Country Friends, that there was such a kind of 
everlasting Drapery to be made use of by all who live at a 
certain distance from the Town, and that they would agree 
upon such Fashions as should never be liable to Changes and 
Innovations. For want of this Standing Dress, a Man who takes 
a Journey into the Country is as much surprized, as one who 
walks in a Gallery of old Family-Pictures; and finds as great 
a Variety of Garbs and Habits in the Persons he Converses 
with. Did they keep to one constant Dress they would some¬ 
times be in the Fashion, which they never are, as Matters are 
managed at present. If instead of running after the Mode they 
would continue fixed in one certain Habit, the Mode would 
some time or other overtake them, as a Clock that stands still is 
sure to point right once in twelve Hours, In this Case there¬ 
fore I would advise them, as a Gentleman did his Friend who 
was hunting about the whole Town after a rambling Fellow, 
If you follow him you will never find him, but if you plant 
your self at the Comer of any one Street, I ’ll engage it will 
not be long before you see him. 

I have already touched upon this Subject, in a Speculation 
which shews how cruelly the Country are led astray in following 
the Town; and equipped in a ridiculous Habit, when they fancy 



392 THE SPECTATOR No. 129. Saturday, July zS, lyii 

themselves in the height of the Mode. Since that Speculation, 
I have received a Letter (which I there hinted at) from a 
Gentleman who is now in the Western Circuit. 

‘Mr. Spectator, 

Being a Lawyer of the Middle Temple, a Cornishman by 
Birth, I generally ride the Western Circuit for my Health, and 
as I am not interrupted with Clients, have leisure to make many 
Observations that escape the Notice of my Fellow-Travellers. 

One of the most fashionable Women I met with in all the 
Circuit was my Landlady at Stains, where I chanced to be on a 
Holiday. Her Commode was not half a Foot high, and her 
Petticoat within some Yards of a modish Circumference. In 
the same Place I observed a young Fellow with a tollerable 
Periwig, had it not been covered with a Hat that was shaped 
in the Ramillie Cock. As I proceeded in my Journey I 
observed the Petticoat grew scantier and scantier, and about 
threescore Miles from London was so very unfashionable, that a 
Woman might walk in it without any manner of Inconvenience. 

Not far from Salisbury I took Notice of a Justice of Peace's 
Lady who was at least ten Years behind hand in her Dress, but 
at the same time as fine as Hands could make her. She was 
flounced and furbelowed from Head to Foot; every Ribbon was 
wrinkled, and every Part of her Garments in Curl, so that she 
looked like one of those Animals which in the Country we call 
a Friezeland Hen. 

Not many Miles beyond this Place I was informed that one 
of the last Year’s little Muffs had by some means or other 
straggled into those Parts, and that all the Women of Fashion 
were cutting their old Muffs in two, or retrenching them, 
according to the little Model which was got among them. I 
cannot believe the Report they have there, that it was sent 
down frank'd by a Parliament-man in a little Packet; but 
probably by next winter this Fashion will be at the height in 
the Country, when it is quite out at London. 

The greatest Beau at our next County Sessions was dressed 
in a most monstrous Flaxen Periwig, that was made in King 
William*^ Reign. The Wearer of it goes, it seems, in his own 
Hair when he is at home, and lets his Wig lie in Buckle for a 
whole half Year, that he may put it on upon Occasion to meet 
the Judges in it. 

I must not here omit an Adventure which happened to us 
in a Country Church upon the Frontiers of Cornwall. As we 
were in the midst of the Service, a Lady who is the chief Woman 
of the Place, and had passed the Winter at London with her 
Husband, entered the Congregation in a little Head-dress and 



No. 129. Saturday, July 11 THE SPECTATOR 393 

a Hoop’d-Petticoat. The People, who were wonderfully 
startled at such a Sight, all of them rose up. Some stared at 
the prodigious Bottom, and some at the little Top of this 
strange Dress, In the mean time the Lady of the Manner 
filled the Area of the Church, and walked up to her Pew with 
an unspeakable Satisfaction, amidst the Whispers, Conjectures 
and Astonishments of the whole Congregation. 

Upon our way from hence we saw a young Fellow riding 
towards us full Gallop, with a Bob Wig and a black Silken 
Bag tied to it. He stopt short at the Coach, to ask us how far 
the Judges were behind us. His Stay was so very short, that 
we had only time to observe his new Silk Waistcoat, which was 
unbuttoned in several Places to let us see that he had a clean 
Shirt on, which was ruffled down to his middle. 

From this Place, during our Progress through the most 
Western Parts of the Kingdom, we fancied our selves in King 
Charles the Second’s Reign, the People having made very little 
Variations in their Dress since that time. The smartest of the 
Country Squires appear still in the Monmouth Cock, and when 
they go a wooing (whether they have any Post in the Militia 
or not) they generally put on a red Coat. We were indeed 
very much surprized, at the Place we lay at last Night, to meet 
with a Gentleman that had accoutered himself in a Night-Cap 
Wig, a Coat with long Pockets and slit Sleeves, and a pair of 
Shooes with high Scollop Tops; but we soon found by his 
Conversation that he was a Person who laughed at the Ignor¬ 
ance and Rusticity of the Country People, and was resolved 
to live and die in the Mode. 

Sir, if you think this Account of my Travels may be of any 
Advantage to the Publick, I will next Year trouble you with 
such Occurrences as I shall meet with in other Parts of England, 
For I am informed there are greater Curiosities in the Northern 
Circuit than in the Western; and that a Fashion makes its 
Progress much slower into Cumberland than into Cornwall. 
I have heard in particular, that the Steenkirk arrived but two 
Months ago at Newcastle, and that there are several Commodes 
in those Parts which are worth taking a Journey thither to see.' 

C 


No. 130. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, July 30. 

. . . Semperque recentes 
Convectare juvat praedas, «S* vivere rapto. —Virg. 

As I was Yesterday riding out in the Fields with my Friend 
Sir Roger, we saw at a little Distance from us a Troop of 



394 THE SPECTATOR iS^o. 130. Monday, July ^o, lyii 

Gypsies. Upon the first Discovery of them, my Friend was 
in some Doubt whether he should not exert the Justice of the 
Peace upon such a Band of lawless Vagrants; but not having 
his Clerk with him, who is a necessary Counsellour on these 
Occasions, and fearing that his Poultry might fare the worse 
for it, he let the Thought drop: But at the same Time gave me 
a particular Account of the Mischiefs they do in the Country, 
in stealing People’s Goods and spoiling their Servants. If a 
stray Piece of Linen hangs upon an Hedge, says Sir Roger, 
they are sure to have it; if a Hog loses his Way in the Fields, 
it is ten to one but he becomes their Prey; our Geese cannot 
live in Peace for them; if a Man prosecutes them with Severity, 
his Hen-roost is sure to pay for it: They generally straggle into 
these Parts about this Time of the Year ; and set the Heads of 
our ■ Servant-Maids so agog for Husbands, that we do not 
expect to have any Business done, as it should be, whilst they 
are in the Country. I have an honest Dairy-Maid who crosses 
their Hands with a Piece of Silver every Summer; and never 
fails being promised the handsomest young Fellow in the Parish 
for her Pains. Your Friend the Butler has been Fool enough 
to be seduced by them; and though he is sure to lose a Knife, 
a Fork, or a Spoon every Time his Fortune is told him, gener¬ 
ally shuts himself up in the Pantry with an old Gypsie for 
about half an Hour once in a Twelve-month. Sweet-hearts are 
the things they live upon, which they bestow very plentifully 
upon all those that apply themselves to them. You see now 
and then some handsome young Jades among them: The Sluts 
have often very white Teeth and black Eyes. 

Sir Roger observing that I listned with great Attention to 
his Account of a People who were so entirely new to me, told 
me. That if I would they should tell us our Fortunes. As I was 
very well pleased with the Knight's Proposal, we rid up and 
communicated our Hands to them. A Cassandra of the Crew, 
after having examined my Lines very diligently, told me. That 
I loved a pretty Maid in a Corner, that I was a good Woman's 
Man, with some other Particulars which I do not think proper 
to relate. My Friend Sir Roger alighted from his Horse, and 
exposing his Palm to two or three that stood by him, they 
crumpled it into all Shapes, and diligently scanned every 
Wrinkle that could be made in it; when one of them who was 
older and more Sun-burnt than the rest, told him. That he had 
a Widow in his Line of Life: Upon which the Knight cryed. 
Go, go, you are an idle Baggage; and at the same time smiled 
upon me. The Gypsie finding he was not displeased in his 
Heart, told him, after a further Enquiry into his Hand, that 
his True-love was constant, and that she should dream of him 



No, 130. Monday, July 30, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 395 

to Night. My old Friend cryed pish, and bid her go on. The 
Gypsie told him that he was a Batchelour, but would not be so 
long; and that he was dearer to some Body than he thought: 
the Knight still repeated. She was an idle Baggage, and bid 
her go on. Ah Master, says the Gypsie, that roguish Leer 
of yours makes a pretty Woman’s Heart ake; you ha'n't 
that Simper about the Mouth for Nothing.—The uncouth 
Gibberish with which all this was uttered, like the Darkness of 
an Oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short, the 
Knight left the Money with her that he had crossed her Hand 
with, and got up again on his Horse. 

As we were riding away. Sir Roger told me, that he knew 
several sensible People who believed these Gypsies now and 
then foretold very strange things; and for Half an Hour 
together appeared more jocund than ordinary. In the Height 
of his good Ilumour, meeting a common Beggar upon the Road 
who was no Conjuror, as he went to relieve him he found his 
Pocket was pickt: That being a Kind of Palmistry at which 
this Race of Vermin are very dexterous. 

I might here entertain my Reader with Historical Remarks 
on this idle profligate People, who infest all the Countries of 
Europe, and live in the Midst of Governments in a kind of 
Commonwealth by themselves. But instead of entering into 
Observations of this Nature, I shall fill the remaining part of 
my Paper with a Story which is still fresh in Holland, and was 
printed in one of our Monthly Accounts about twenty Years 
ago. 'As the Trekschuyt, or Hackney-boat, which carries 
Passengers from Leiden to Amsterdam, was putting off, a Boy 
running along the Side of the Canal, desir’d to be taken in; 
which the Master of the Boat refused, because the Lad had 
not quite Money enough to pay the usual Fare. An eminent 
Merchant being pleased with the Looks of the Boy, and 
secretly touched with Compassion towards him, paid the 
Money for him, and ordered him to be taken on board. Upon 
talking with him afterwards, he found that he could speak 
readily in three or four Languages, and learned upon further 
Examination that he had been stolen away when he was a 
Child by a Gypsy, and had rambled ever since with a gang of 
those Strolers up and down several Parts of Europe. It 
happened that the Merchant, whose Heart seems to have in¬ 
clined towards the Boy by a secret kind of Instinct, had himself 
lost a Child some Years before. The Parents, after a long 
Search for him, gave him for drowned in one of the Canals with 
which that Country abounds; and the Mother was so afflicted at 
the Loss of a fine Boy, who was her only Son, that she died for 
Grief of it. Upon laying together all Particulars, and examining 



396 THE SPECTATOR No. 130. Monday, July ^o,iy 11 

the several Moles and Marks by which the Mother used to 
describe the Child when he was first missing, the Boy proved 
to be the Son of the Merchant, whose Heart had so unaccount¬ 
ably melted at the Sight of him. The Lad was very well 
pleased to find a Father, who was so rich, and likely to leave 
him a good Estate; the Father, on the other Hand, was not a 
little delighted to see a Son return to him, whom he had given 
for lost, with such a Strength of Constitution, Sharpness of 
Understanding, and Skill in Languages.' Here the printed 
Story leaves off; but if I may give credit to Reports, our 
Linguist having received such extraordinary Rudiments to¬ 
wards a good Education, was afterwards trained up in every 
thing that becomes a Gentleman; wearing off by little and little 
all the vicious Habits and Practices that he had been used to 
in the Course of his Peregrinations: Nay, it is said, that he has 
since been employed in foreign Courts upon National Business, 
with great Reputation to himself and Honour to those who 
sent him, and that he has visited several Countries as a publick 
Minister, in which he formerly wandered as a Gypsy. C 


No. 131. 

[ADDISON.] Tuesday, July 31. 

. . . Ipsae rursum concedite silvae. —Virg. 

It is usual for a Man who loves Country Sports to preserve the 
Game in his own Grounds, and divert himself upon those that 
belong to his Neighbour. My Friend Sir Roger generally goes 
two or three Miles from his House, and gets into the Frontiers 
of his Estate, before he beats about in search of an Hare or 
Partridge, on purpose to .spare his own Fields, where he is 
always sure of finding Diversion when the worst comes to the 
worst. By this means the Breed about his House has time to 
encrease and multiply, besides that the Sport is the more agree¬ 
able where the Game is the harder to come at, and does not lie 
so thick as to produce any Perplexity or Confusion in the Pur¬ 
suit. For these Reasons the Country Gentleman, like the 
Fox, seldom preys near his own Home. 

In the same manner I have made a Month’s Excursion out 
of the Town, which is the great Field of Game for Sportsmen 
of my Species, to try my Fortune in the Country, where I have 
started several Subjects, and hunted them down, with some 
Pleasure to my self, and I hope to others. I am here forced 
to use a great deal of Diligence before I can spring any thing 
to my Mind, whereas in Town, whilst I am following one 



No. i^i. Tuesday, July ^1, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 397 

Character, it is ten to one but I am crossed in my Way by another, 
and put up such a Variety of odd Creatures in both Sexes, that 
they foil the Scent of one another, and puzzle the Chace. My 
greatest Difficulty in the Country is to find Sport, and in Town 
to chuse it. In the mean time, as I have given a whole Month's 
Rest to the Cities of London and Westminster, I promise my 
self abundance of new Game upon my return thither. 

It is indeed high time for me to leave the Country, since I 
find the whole Neighbourhood begin to grow very inquisitive 
after my Name and Character: My Love of Solitude, Taci¬ 
turnity, and particular way of Life, having raised a great 
Curiosity in all these Parts. 

The Notions which have been framed of me are various; 
some look upon me as very proud, and some as very melan¬ 
choly. Will. Wimble, as my Friend the Butler tells me, 
observing me very much alone, and extreamly silent when I 
am in Company, is afraid I have killed a Man. The Country 
People seem to suspect me for a Conjurer; and some of them 
hearing of the Visit that I made to Moll. White, will needs have 
it that Sir Roger has brought down a Cunning Man with him, 
to cure the old Woman, and free the Country from her Charms. 
So that the Character which I go under in part of the Neigh¬ 
bourhood, is what they here call a White Witch. 

A Justice of Peace, who lives about five Miles off, and is not 
of Sir Roger's Party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his 
Table, that he wishes Sir Roger does not harbour a Jesuit in 
his House, and that he thinks the Gentlemen of the Country 
would do very well to make me give some Account of my self. 

On the other side, some of Sir Roger's Friends are afraid 
the old Knight is imposed upon by a designing Fellow; and as 
they have heard that he converses very promiscuously when he 
is in Town, do not know but he has brought down with him 
some, discarded Whig, that is sullen, and says nothing, because 
he is out of Place. 

Such is the Variety of Opinions that are here entertained of 
me, so that I pass among some for a disaffected Person, and 
among others for a Popish Priest; among some for a Wizard, 
and among others for a Murderer; and all this for no other 
Reason, that I can imagine, but because I do not hoot and 
hollow and make a Noise. It is true my Friend Sir Roger, 
tells them that it is my way, and that I am only a Philosopher, 
but that will not satisfy them. They think there is more 
in me than he discovers, and that I do not hold my Tongue 
for nothing. 

For these and other Reasons I shall set out for London to 
Morrow, having found by Experience that the Country is not 



398 THE SPECTATOR iVo. 131. Tuesday, July ^1, iyi\ 

a Place for a Person of my Temper, who does not love Jollity, 
and what they call Good-Neighbourhood. A Man that is out 
of Humour when an unexpected Guest breaks in upon him, 
and does not care for sacrificing an Afternoon to every Chance- 
comer; that will be the Master of his own Time, and the 
Pursuer of his own Inclinations, makes but a very unsociable 
Figure in this kind of Life. I shall therefore retire into the 
Town, if I may make use of that Phrase, and get into the Crowd 
again as fast as I can, in order to be alone. I can there raise 
what Speculations I please upon others without being observed 
my self, and at the same time enjoy all the Advantages of 
Company with all the Privileges of Solitude. In the mean 
while, to finish the Month, and conclude these my Rural 
Speculations, I shall here insert a Letter from my Friend Will. 
Honeycomb, who has not lived a Month for these forty Years 
out of the Smoke of London, and rallies me after his way upon 
my Country Life. 

'Dear Spec. 

I suppose this Letter will find thee picking of Daisies, or 
smelling to a Lock of Hay, or passing away thy time in some 
innocent Country Diversion of the like nature. I have how¬ 
ever Orders from the Club to summon thee up to Town, being 
all of us cursedly afraid thou wilt not be able to relish our 
Company, after thy Conversations with Moll, White and Will. 
Wimble. Prithee don't send us up any more Stories of a Cock 
and a Bull, nor frighten the Town with Spirits and Witches. 
Thy Speculations begin to smell confoundedly of Woods and 
Meadows. If thou dost not come up quickly, we shall conclude 
that thou art in Love with one of Sir Roger’s Dairy Maids. 
Service to the Knight. Sir Andrew is grown the Cock of the 
Club since he left us, and if he does not return quickly will 
make every Mother's Son of us Common-wealth's Men. 

Dear Spec. 

Thine Eternally, 

C Will. Honeycomb.* 


No. 132. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, August i. 

. . . Qui, aut temptis quid postulet non videt, aut plura loquitur, aut 
se ostentat, aut eorum quibuscum est, . . . rationem non habet, 
... is ineptus dicitur. —Tull. 

Having notified to my good Friend Sir Roger that I should 
set out for London the next Day, his Horses were ready at the 



No. 1'^2. Wednesday, Aug. THE SPECTATOR 399 

appointed Hour in the Evening; and, attended by one of his 
Grooms, I arrived at the County Town at Twilight, in order to 
be ready for the Stage-Coach the Day following. As soon as 
we arrived at the Inn, the Servant who waited upon me. 
enquired of the Chamberlain in my Hearing what Company 
he had for the Coach? The Fellow answered, Mrs. Betty 
Arable, the great Fortune, and the Widow her Mother, a re¬ 
cruiting Officer (who took a Place because they were to go), 
young Squire Quickset her Cousin (that her Mother wi.shed her 
to be married to), Ephraim the Quaker, her Guardian, and a 
Gentleman that had studied himself dumb from Sir Roger de 
Coverley’s. I observed by what he said of my self, that 
according to his Office he dealt much in Intelligence; and 
doubted not but there was some Foundation for his Reports 
of the rest of the Company, as well as for the whimsical 
Account he gave of me. The next Morning at Day-break we 
were all called; and I, who know my own natural Shyness, 
and endeavour to be as little liable to be disputed with as 
possible, dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. 
The first Preparation for our Setting out was, that the Captain's 
Half-Pike was placed near the Coach-man, and a Drum behind 
the Coach. In the mean Time the Drummer, the Captain's 
Equipage, was very loud, that none of the Captain's things 
should be placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his Cloak-bag 
was fixed in the Seat of the Coach: And the Captain himself, 
according to a frequent, tho' invidious Behaviour of military 
Men, ordered his Man to look sharp, that none but one of the 
Ladies should have the Place he had taken fronting to the 
Coach-box. 

We were in some little Time fixed in our Seats, and sat with 
that Dislike which People not too good-natured, usually con¬ 
ceive of each other at first Sight. The Coa^h jumbled us in¬ 
sensibly into some sort of Familiarity; and we had not moved 
above two Miles, when the Widow asked the Captain what 
Success he had in his Recruiting ? The Officer, with a Frank¬ 
ness he believed very graceful, told her,' That indeed he had but 
very little Luck, and had suffered much by Desertion, therefore 
should be glad to end his Warfare in the Service of her or her 
fair Daughter. In a Word,' continued he," I am a Soldier, and 
to be plain is my Character; You see me. Madam, young, 
sound, and impudent; take me your self. Widow, or give me 
to her, I will be wholly at your Disposal. I am a Soldier of 
Fortune, ha 1 ' This was followed by a vain Laugh of his own, 
and a deep Silence of all the rest of the Company. I had noth¬ 
ing left for it but to fall fast asleep, which I did with all Speed. 
‘Come,' said he, ‘resolve upon it, we will make a Wedding at 



400 THE SPECTATOR TSTo. 132. Wednesday, Aug. 1, 1711 

the next Town: We will wake this pleasant Companion who is 
fallen asleep, to be the Brideman, and,' (giving the Quaker a 
Clap on the Knee) he concluded, 'This sly Saint, who, I '11 
warrant understands what's what as well as you or I, Widow, 
shall give the Bride as Father/ The Quaker, who happened to 
be a Man of Smartness, answered, 'Friend, I take it in good 
Part that thou hast given me the Authority of a Father over 
this comely and virtuous Child; and I must assure thee, that 
if I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her on thee. Thy 
Mirth, Friend, savoureth of Folly: Thou art a Person of a light 
Mind; thy Drum is a Type of thee, it soundeth because it is 
empty. Verily, it is not from thy Fullness, but thy Emptiness, 
that thou hast spoken this Day. Friend, Friend, we have 
hired this Coach in Partnership with thee, to carry us to the 
great City; we cannot go any other Way. This worthy Mother 
must hear thee if thou wilt needs utter thy Follies; we cannot 
help it Friend, I say; if thou wilt, we must hear thee: But if 
thou wert a Man of Understanding, thou wouldst not take 
Advantage of thy couragious Countenance to abash us Children 
of Peace. Thou art, thou sayest, a Soldier; give Quarter to us, 
who cannot resist thee. Why didst thou fleer at our Friend, 
who feigned himself asleep? he said nothing; but how dost 
thou know what he containeth? If thou speakest improper 
things in the Hearing of this virtuous young Virgin, consider it 
as an Outrage against a distressed Person that cannot get 
from thee: To speak indiscreetly what we are obliged to hear, 
by being hasped up with thee in this publick Vehicle, is in some 
Degree assaulting on the high Road.' 

Here Ephraim paused, and the Captain with an happy and 
uncommon Impudence (which can be convicted and support 
it self at the same time) crys, 'Faith Friend, I thank thee; I 
should have been a little impertinent if thou hadst not repri¬ 
manded me. Come, thou art, I see, a smoaky old Fellow, and 
I '11 be very orderly the ensuing Part of the Journey. I was 
going to give my self Airs, but Ladies I beg Pardon.' 

The Captain was so little out of Humour, and our Company 
was so far from being sowcred by this little Ruffle, that 
Ephraim and he took a particular Delight in being agreeable 
to each other for the future; and assumed their difierent 
Provinces in the Conduct of the Company. Our Reckonings, 
Apartments, and Accommodation, fell under Ephraim', and 
the Captain looked to all Disputes on the Road, as the good 
Behaviour of our Coachman, and the Right we had of taking 
Place as going to London of £^11 Vehicles coming from thence. 
The Occurrences we met with were ordinary, and very little 
happen'd which could entertain by the Relation of them: But 



No. 1^2. Wednesday, Aug, i,iy 11 THE SPECTATOR 401 

when I consider’d the Company we were in, I took it for no 
small good Fortune that the whole Journey was not spent in 
Impertinences, which to one Part of us might be an Entertain¬ 
ment, to the other a Suffering. What therefore Ephraim said 
when we were almost arrived at London, had to me an Air 
not only of good Understanding, but good Breeding. Upon 
the young Lady’s expressing her Satisfaction in the Journey, 
and declaring how delightful it had been to her, Ephraim 
delivered himself as follows: ‘There is no ordinary Part of 
humane Life which expresseth so much a good Mind, and a 
right inward Man, as his Behaviour upon Meeting with 
Strangers, especially such as may seem the most unsuitable 
Companions to him: Such a Man when he falleth in the Way 
with Persons of Simplicity and Innocence, however knowing 
he may be in the Ways of Men, will not vaunt himself thereof; 
but will the rather hide his Superiority to them, that he may 
not be painful unto them. My good Friend,’ continued he, 
turning to the Officer, ‘ thee and I are to part by and by, and 
peradventure we may never meet again: But be advised by a 
plain Man; Modes and Apparels are but Trifles to the real Man, 
therefore do not think such a Man as thy self terrible for thy 
Garb, nor such a one as me contemptible for mine. When 
two such as thee and I meet, with Affections as we ought to 
have towards each other, thou shouldst rejoyce to see my 
peaceable Demeanour, and I should be glad to see thy Strength 
and Ability to protect me in it.' T 

No. 133. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, August 2. 

Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus 

Tam cari capitis} . . .—Hor. 

There is a sort of Delight, which is alternately mixed with 
Terrour and Sorrow, in the Contemplation of Death. The 
Soul has its Curiosity more than ordinarily awaken’d, when it 
turns its Thoughts upon the Conduct of such who have behaved 
themselves with an Equal, a Resigned, a Chearful, a Generous 
or Heroick Temper in that Extremity. We are affected with 
these respective manners of Behaviour, as we secretly believe 
the Part of the Dying Person imitable by our selves, or such 
as we imagine our selves more particularly capable of. Men of 
exalted Minds march before us like Princes, and are, to the 
Ordinary Race of Mankind, rather Subjects for their Admira¬ 
tion than Example. However, there are no Ideas strike more 



402 THE SPECTATOR No. 133. Thursday, Aug. 2, 1711 

forcibly upon our Imaginations, than those which are raised 
from Reflections upon the Exits of great and excellent Men. 
Innocent Men who have suffered as Criminals, tho’ they were 
Benefactors to Humane Society, seem to be Persons of the 
highest Distinction, among the vastly greater number of 
Humane Race, the Dead. When the Iniquity of the Times 
brought Socrates to his Execution, how great and wonderful 
is it to behold him, unsupported by any thing but the Testi¬ 
mony of his own Conscience and Conjectures of Hereafter, 
receive the Poison with an Air of Mirth and good Humour, and 
as if going on an agreeable Journey bespeak some Deity to 
make it fortunate. 

When Phocion’s good Actions had met with the like Reward 
from his Country, and he was led to Death with many others 
of his Friends, they bewailing their Fate, he walking com¬ 
posedly towards the place of Execution, how gracefully does 
he support his Illustrious Character to the very last Instant. 
One of the Rabble spitting at him as he passed, with his usual 
Authority he called to know if one was ready to teach this 
Fellow how to behave himself. When a Poor-spirited Creature 
that dyed at the same time for his Crimes bemoaned him¬ 
self unmanfully, he rebuked him with this Question, Is it no 
Consolation to such a Man as thou art to dye with Phocionl 
At the instant when he was to Dye they asked what Commands 
he had for his Son, he answer’d. To forget this Injury of the 
Athenians. Niocles, his Friend, under the same Sentence, 
desired he might Drink the Potion before him; Phocion said 
because he never had denyed him any thing he would not even 
this, the most difficult Request he had ever made. 

These Instances were very noble and great, and the Re¬ 
flections of those Sublime Spirits had made Death to them 
what it is really intended to be by the Author of Nature, a 
Relief from a various Being ever subject to Sorrows and 
Difficulties. 

Epaminondas the Theban General, having receiv’d in fight 
a Mortal Stab with a Sword, which was left in his Body, lay 
in that posture till he had Intelligence that his Troops had 
obtained the Victory, and then permitted it to be drawn out, 
at which instant he express’d himself in this manner. This 
is not the end of my Life, my Fellow Soldiers; it is now your 
Epaminondas is born, who dies in so much Glory. 

It were an endless Labour to collect the Accounts with 
which all Ages have filled the World of Noble and Heroick 
Minds that have resigned this Being, as if the termination of 
Life were but an ordinary Occurrence of it. 

The common-place way of Thinking I fell into from an 



No. 133. Thursday, Aug. 2, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 403 

awkward Endeavour to throw off a real and fresh Affliction, by 
turning over Books in a melancholy Mood; but it is not easy 
to remove Griefs which touch the Heart, by applying Remedies 
which only entertain the Imagination. As therefore this Paper 
is to consist of any thing which concerns Human Life, I cannot 
help letting the present Subject regard what has been the last 
Object of my Eyes, tho’ an Entertainment of Sorrow. 

I went this Evening to visit a Friend, with a design to rally 
him, upon a Story I had heard of his intending to steal a 
Marriage without the Privity of us his intimate Friends and 
Acquaintance. I came into his Apartment with that Intimacy 
which I have done for very many Years, and walked directly 
into his Bedchamber, where I found my Friend in the Agonies 
of Death. What could I do? The innocent Mirth in my 
Thoughts struck upon me like the most flagitious Wickedness; 
I in vain called upon him; he was senseless, and too far spent 
to have the least Knowledge of my Sorrow, or any Pain in 
himself. Give me leave then to transcribe my Soliloquy, as 
I stood by his Mother Dumb, with the weight of Grief for a 
Son who was her Honour, and her Comfort, and never til) 
that Hour since his Birth had been an Occasion of a Moment's 
Sorrow to her. 

' How surprising is this Change from the Possession of vigor¬ 
ous Life and Strength, to be reduced in a few Hours to this 
fatal Extremity! Those Lips which look so pale and livid, 
within these few Days gave Delight to all who heard their 
Utterance: It was the Business, the Purpose of his Being, 
next to Obeying him to whom he is going, to please and in¬ 
struct, and that for no other end but to please and instruct. 
Kindness was the motive of his Actions, and with all the 
Capacity requisite for making a Figure in a contentious World, 
Moderation, Good-Nature, Affability, Temperance and Chastity 
were the Arts of his Excellent Life. There as he lies in help¬ 
less Agony, no Wise Man who knew him so well as I, but would 
resign all the World can bestow to be so near the End of such 
a Life. Why does my Heart so little obey my Reason as to 
lament thee, thou excellent Man.—^Heav’n receive him, or 
restore him.—^Thy beloved Mother, thy obliged Friends, 
thy helpless Servants stand around thee without Distinction. 
How much wouldst thou, hadst thou thy Senses, say to each 
of us. 

But now that good Heart bursts, and he is at rest—with 
that Breath Expired a Soul who never indulged a Passion unfit 
for the Place he is gone to: Where are now thy Plans of Justice, 
of Truth, of Honour? of what use the Volumes thou hast 



404 THE SPECTATOR No. 133. Thursday, Aug. 2, 1711 

collated, the Arguments thou hast invented, the Examples 
thou hast followed? Poor were the Expectations of the 
studious, the Modest and the Good, if the Keward of their 
Labours were only to be Expected from Man. No, my Friend, 
thy intended Pleadings, thy intended Good Offices to thy 
Friends, thy intended Services to thy Country, are already per¬ 
formed (as to thy Concern in them) in his sight before whom 
the past, present, and future appear at one view. While others 
with thy Talents were tormented with Ambition, with vain 
Glory, with Envy, with Emulation, how well didst thou turn 
thy Mind to its own Improvement in things out of the Power 
of Fortune; in Probity, in Integrity, in the Practice and Study 
of Justice: how silent thy Passage, how private thy Journey, 
how Glorious thy End! Many have I known more Famous, 
some more knowing, not one so Innocent.* R 


No. 134. 

[STEELE.] Friday, August 3. 

. . . Opiferque per orhem 
Dicor . . . —Ovid. 

During my Absence in the Country several Packets have been 
left for me, which were not forwarded to me, because I was 
expected every Day in Town. The Author of the following 
Letter dated from Tower-hill, having some times been enter¬ 
tain'd with some Learned Gentlemen in Plush Doublets, who 
have Vended their Wares from a Stage in that Place, has 
pleasantly enough addressed to Me, as no less a Sage in 
Morality, than those are in Physick. To comply with his kind 
Inclination to make my Cures famous, I shall give you his 
Testimonial of my great Abilities at large in his own Words. 

' Sir, 

Your saying t'other Day there is something wonderful in the 
Narrowness of those Minds, which can be pleas'd, and be 
barren of Bounty to those who please them, makes me in pain 
that I am not a Man of Power: If I were, you should soon see 
how much I approve your Speculations. In the mean time I 
beg leave to supply that Inability with the empty Tribute of 
an honest Mind, by telling you plainly I love and thank you 
for your daily Refreshments. I constantly peruse your Paper 
as I smoke my Morning's Pipe (tho' I can't forbear reading the 
Motto before I fill and light), and really it gives a grateful 
Relish to every Whif; each Paragraph is freight either with 



iVo. i34« Friday, Aug, lyii THE SPECTATOR 405 

useful or delightful Notions, and I never fail of being highly 
diverted or improv'd. The Variety of your Subjects surprizes 
me as much as a Box of Pictures did formerly, in which there 
was only one Face, that by pulling some Pieces of Isinglass over 
it, was chang'd into a grave Senator or a Merry Andrew, a 
Patch'd Lady or a Nun, a Beau or a Black-a-moor, a Prude or 
a Coquet, a Country 'Squire or a Conjurer, with many other 
different Representations very entertaining (as you are) tho' 
still the same at the Bottom. This was a childish Amusement 
when I was carried away with outward Appearance, but you 
make a deeper Impression, and affect the secret Springs of the 
Mind; you charm the Fancy, sooth the Passions, and insensibly 
lead the Reader to that Sweetness of I'emper that you so well 
describe; you rouse Generosity with that Spirit, and inculcate 
Humanity with that Ease, that he must be miserably Stupid 
that is not affected by you. I can't say indeed that you have 
put Impertinence to Silence, or Vanity out of Countenance; 
but methinks you have bid as fair for it, as any Man that ever 
appear'd upon a Publick Stage; and offer an infallible Cure of 
Vice and Folly, for the Price of one Penny. And since it is 
usual for those who receive Benefit by such famous Operators, 
to publish an Advertisement, that others may reap the same 
Advantage, I think my self obliged to declare to all the World, 
that having for a long time been splenatick, iil-natur'd, 
froward, suspicious and unsociable, by the Application of your 
Medicines, taken only with half an Ounce of right Virginia 
I'obacco for six successive Mornings, I am become open, 
obliging, officious, frank and hospitable. 

I am. 

Tower-hill, Your humble Servant, 

July 5, 1711. and great Admirer, 

George Tru.sty.’ 

The careful Father and humble Petitioner hereafter men¬ 
tioned, who are under Difficulties about the just Management 
of Fans, will soon receive proper Advertisements relating to the 
Professors in that behalf, with their Places of Abode and 
Methods of Teaching. 

*Sif, July the $th, 1711. 

In your Spectator of June the 7th you Transcribe a Letter 
sent to you from a new sort of Muster-master, who teaches 
Ladies the whole Exercise of the Fan; I have a Daughter just 
come to Town, who tho' she has always held a Fan in her Hand 
at proper times, yet she knows no more how to use it according 
to true Discipline, than an awkward School-boy does to make 



4o6 the spectator No. 134. Friday, Aug. 3, 1711 

use of his new Sword: I have sent for her on purpose to learn 
the Exercise, she being already very well accomplished in all 
other Arts which are necessary for a young Lady to understand; 
my Request is, that you will speak to your Correspondent on 
my behalf; and in your next Paper let me know what he ex¬ 
pects, either by the Month, or the Quarter, for teaching; and 
where he keeps his place of Rendezvous. I have a Son too, 
whom I wou'd fain have taught to gallant Fans, and should be 
glad to know what the Gentleman will have for teaching them 
both, I finding Fans for Practice at my own Expence. This 
Information will in the highest manner oblige. 

Sir, 

Your Most Humble Servant, 

William Wiseacre. 

As soon as my Son is perfect in this Art (which I hope will 
be in a Year's time, for the Boy is pretty apt), I design he shall 
learn to ride the great Horse, (altho' he is not yet above twenty 
Years old) if his Mother, whose Darling he is, will venture him.' 

* To the Spectator. 

The Humble Petition 0/Benjamin Easie, GerU. 

Sheweth, 

That it was your Petitioner’s Misfortune to walk to Hackney 
Church last Sunday, where to his great Amazement he met with 
a Soldier of your own training; she furls a Fan, recovers a Fan, 
and goes through the whole Exercise of it to Admiration. This 
well-managed Ofi&cer of yours has, to my Knowledge, been the 
Ruin of above five young Gentlemen besides my self, and still 
goes on laying waste wheresoever she comes, whereby the 
whole Village is in great danger. Our humble Request is 
therefore that this bold Amazon be ordered immediately to 
lay down her Arms, or that you would issue forth an Order 
that we who have been thus Injured may meet at the Place 
of General Rendezvous, and there be taught to manage our 
Snuff-Boxes in such manner as we may be an equal Match 
for her: 

And your Petitioner shall ever Pray, 

R 



No. 135. Saturday, Aug. 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 407 


No. 135. 

[ADDISON,] Saturday, August 4. 

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia . . . —Hor. 

I HAVE somewhere read of an eminent Person, who used in his 
private Offices of Devotion to give Thanks to Heaven that he 
was Born a Frenchman'. For my own part I look upon it as a 
peculiar Blessing that I was born an Englishman. Among 
many other Reasons, I think my self very happy in my Country, 
as the Layiguage of it is wonderfully adapted to a Man who is 
sparing of his Words, and an Enemy to Loquacity. 

As I have frequently reflected on my good Fortune in this 
Particular, I shall communicate to the Publick my Specu¬ 
lations upon the English Tongue, not doubting but they will 
be acceptable to all my curious Readers. 

The English delight in Silence more than any other European 
Nation, if the Remarks which are made on us by Foreigners 
are true. Our Discourse is not kept up in Conversation, but 
falls into more Pau.ses and Intervals than in our Neighbouring 
Countries; as it is observed, that the matter of our Writings is 
thrown much closer together, and lies in a narrower Compass 
than is usual in the Works of Foreign Authors: For, to favour 
6ur Natural Taciturnity, when we are obliged to utter our 
Thoughts, we do it in the shortest way we are able, and give as 
quick a Birth to our Conceptions as possible. 

This Humour shews it self in several Remarks that we may 
make upon the English Language. At first of all by its 
abounding in Monosyllables, which gives us an Opportunity of 
delivering our Thoughts in few Sounds. This indeed takes off 
from the Elegance of our Tongue, but at the same time expresses 
our Ideas in the readiest manner, and consequently answers 
the first Design of Speech better than the Multitude of Syllables, 
which make the Words of other Languages more Tunable and 
Sonorous. The Sounds of our English Words are commonly 
like those of String Musick, short and transient, which rise and 
perish upon a single Touch; those of other Languages are like 
the Notes of Wind Instruments, sweet and swelling, and 
lengthen’d out into variety of Modulation. 

, In the next place we may observe, that where the Words are 
not Monosyllables, we often make them so, as much as lies 
in our Power, by our Rapidity of Pronunciation; as it generally 
happens in most of our long Words which are derived from the 
Latin, where we contract the length of the Syllables that gives 
them a grave and solemn Air, in their own Language, to make 
them more proper for Dispatch, and more conformable to the 



4o8 the spectator No. 135. Saturday, Aug. 4, 1713 

Genius of our Tongue. This we may find in a Multitude of 
Words, as Liberty, Conspiracy, Theatre, Orator, &c. 

The same natural Aversion to Loquacity has of late Years 
made a very considerable Alteration in our Language, by clos¬ 
ing in one Syllable the Termination of our Praeterpcrfect Tense, 
as in these Words, drown'd, walk'd, arriv'd, for drowned, walked, 
arrived, which has very much disfigured the Tongue, and 
turned a tenth part of our smoothest Words into so many 
Clusters of Consonants. This is the more remarkable, because 
the want of Vowels in our Language has been the general Com¬ 
plaint of our politest Authors, who nevertheless are the Men 
that have made these Retrenchments, and consequently very 
much increased our former Scarcity. 

This Reflection on the Words that end in ed, I have heard in 
Conversation from one of the greatest Genius’s this Age has 
produced. I think we may add to the foregoing Observation, 
the Change which has happened in our Language, by the 
Abbreviation of several words that are terminated in eth 
by substituting an 5 in the room of the last Syllable, as in 
drowns, walks, arrives, and innumerable other Words, which, 
in the Pronunciation of our Fore-fathers were drowneth, 
walketh, arriveth. This has wonderfully multiplied a Letter 
which was before too frequent in the English Tongue, and added 
to that hissing in our Language, which is taken so much notice 
of by Foreigners; but at the same time humours our Taciturnity, 
and eases us of many superfluous Syllables. 

I might here observe, that the same single Letter on many 
occasions does the Office of a whole Word, and represents the 
His and Her of our Forefathers. There is no doubt but the 
Ear of a Foreigner, which is the best Judge in this Case, would 
very much disapprove of such Innovations, which indeed we 
do our selves in some measure, by retaining the old Termination 
in Writing, and in all the Solemn Offices of our Religion. 

As in the Instances I have given we have epitomized many 
of our particular Words to the Detriment of our Tongue, so on 
other Occasions we have drawn two Words into one, which has 
likewise very much untuned our Language, and clogged it with 
Consonants, as mayn't, can't, sha'n't, wo'n't, and the like, for 
may not, can not, shall not, will not, &c. 

It is perhaps this Humour of speaking no more than we needs 
must, which has so miserably curtailed some of our Words, 
that in familiar Writings and Conversations, they often lose 
all but their first Syllables, as in mob. rep. pos. incog, and the 
like; and as all ridiculous Wprds make their first Entry into a 
Language by familiar Phrases, I dare not answer for these that 
they will not in time be looked upon as a part of our Tongue. 



No. 135. Saturday, Aug. 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 409 

We see some of our Poets have been so indiscreet as to imitate 
Hudihras’s Doggrel Expressions in their serious Compositions, 
by throwing out the Signs of our Substantives, which are 
essential to the English Language. Nay, this Humour of 
shortning our Language had once run so far, that some of our 
celebrated Authors, among whom we may reckon Sir Roger 
U Estrange in particular, began to prune their Words of all 
superfluous Letters, as they termed them, in order to adjust 
the Spelling to the Pronunciation; which would have con¬ 
founded all our Etymologies, and have quite destroyed our 
Tongue. 

We may here likewise observe, that our Proper Names, when 
familiarized in English, generally dwindle to Monosyllables, 
whereas in other Modern Languages they receive a softer Turn 
on this occasion, by the Addition of a new Syllable. Nick in 
Italian is Nicolini, Jack in French Janot: and so of the rest. 

There is another Particular in our Language which is a 
great Instance of our Frugality of Words, and that is the 
suppressing of several Particles, which must be produced in 
other Tongues to make a Sentence intelligible: This often 
perplexes the best Writers, when they find the Relatives whom, 
which, or they, at their Mercy whether they may have Admis¬ 
sion or not; and will never be decided till we have something 
like an Academy, that by the best Authorities and Rules 
drawn from the Analogy of Languages shall settle all Con¬ 
troversies between Grammar and Idiom. 

I have only considered our Language as it shews the Genius 
and natural Temper of the English, which is modest, thoughtful 
and sincere, and which perhaps may recommend the People, 
though it has spoiled the Tongue. We might perhaps carry 
the same Thought into other Languages, and deduce a great 
part of what is peculiar to them from the Genius of the People 
who speak them. It is certain the light talkative Humour of 
the French has not a little infected their Tongue, which might 
be shewn by many Instances; as the Genius of the Italians, 
which is so much addicted to Musick and Ceremony, has 
moulded all their Words and Phrases to those particular Uses. 
The Stateliness and Gravity of the Spaniards shews itself to 
Perfection in the Solemnity of their Language; and the blunt 
he nest Humour of the Germans sounds better in the Roughness 
of the High Dutch, than it would in a politer Tongue. C 



410 THE SPECTATOR No. 136. Monday, Aug. 6, 1711 


No. 136. 

[STEELE.] Monday, August 6. 

. . . Parthis mendacior . . .—Hor. 

According to the Request of this strange Fellow, I shall print 
the following Letter. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

I shall without any manner of Preface or Apology acquaint 
you, that I am, and ever have been from my Youth upward, 
one of the greatest Liars this Island has produced. I have 
read all the Moralists upon the Subject, but could never find 
any effect their Discourses had upon me, but to add to my Mis¬ 
fortune by new Thoughts and Ideas, and making me more 
ready in my Language, and capable of sometimes mixing 
seeming Truths with my Improbabilities. With this strong 
Passion towards Falshood in this kind, there does not live an 
honester man or a sincerer Friend; but my Imagination runs 
away with me, and whatever is started I have such a Scene ol 
Adventures appears in an instant before me, that I cannot 
help uttering them, tho’ to my immediate Confusion I cannot 
but know I am liable to be detected by the first Man I meet. 

Upon occasion of the mention of the Battle of Pultowa, I 
could not forbear giving an Account of a Kinsman of mine, a 
young Merchant who was bred at Mosco, that had too much 
Metal to attend Books of Entries and Accounts, when there 
was so active a Scene in the Country where he resided, and 
followed the Czar as a Volunteer; This warm Youth, born at the 
Instant the thing was spoke of, was the Man who unhorsed the 
Swedish General, he was the Occasion that the Moscovites kept 
their Fire in so Soldier-like a manner, and brought up those 
Troops which were cover'd from the Enemy at the beginning 
of the Day; besides this, he had at last the good Fortune to 
be the Man who took Count Piper. With all this Fire 1 knew 
my Cousin to be the Civilest Creature in the World. He never 
made any impertinent Show of his Valour, and then he had an 
excellent Genius for the World in every other kind. I had 
Letters from him (here I felt in my Pockets) that exactly 
spoke the Czar’s Character, which I knew perfectly well; and 
I could not forbear concluding, that I lay with his Imperial 
Majesty twice or thrice a Week all the while he lodged at 
Deptford. What is worse than all this, it is impossible to 
speak to me, but you give me some occasion of coming out with 
one Lie or other, that has neither Wit, Humour, prospect of 
Interest, or any other Motive that I can think of in Nature. 



No. 136. Monday, Aug. 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 411 

The other Day, when one was commending an Eminent and 
Learned Divine, what occasion in the World had I to say, Me- 
thinks he would look more Venerable if he were not so fair a 
Man? I remember the Company smiled. I have seen the 
Gentleman since, and he is Cole Black. I have Intimations 
every Day in my Life that no Body believes me, yet I am 
never the better. I was saying something the other Day to an 
old Friend at Will’s Coffee-house, and he made me no manner 
of Answer; but told me, that an Acquaintance of Tully the 
Orator having two or three times together said to him, without 
receiving any Answer, That upon his Honour he was but that 
very Month forty years of Age; Tully answer’d, Surely you 
think me the most incredulous Man in the World, if I don't 
believe what you have told me every Day this ten Years. The 
Mischief of it is, I find my self wonderfully inclin'd to have been 
present at every Occurrence that is spoken of before me; this 
has led me into many Inconveniencies, but indeed they have 
been the fewer, because I am no ill-natur'd Man, and never 
speak things to any Man's Disadvantage. I never directly 
defame, but I do what is as bad in the Consequence, for I have 
often made a Man say such and such a lively Expression, who 
was born a mere Elder Brother. When one has said in my 
hearing. Such a one is no wiser than he should be, I immedi¬ 
ately have reply'd. Now 'faith I can't see that, he said a very 
good thing to my Lord such a one upon such an occasion, and 
the like. Such an honest Dolt as this has been watch'd in 
every Expression he utter'd, upon my Recommendation of 
him, and consequently been subject to the more Ridicule. 
I once endeavour'd to Cure my self of this impertinent Quality, 
and resolv'd to hold my Tongue for seven Days together; I 
did so, but then I had so many Winks and unnecessary Dis¬ 
tortions of my Face upon what any body else said, that I 
found I only fore bore the Expression, and that I still lied in 
my Heart to every Man I met with. You are to know one 
thing (which I believe you '11 say is a Pity considering the use 
I should have made of it) I never Travell'd in my Life; but I 
do not know whether I could have spoken of any Foreign 
Country with more familiarity than I do at present, in Company 
who are Strangers to me. I have cursed the Inns in Germany ; 
commended the Brothels at Venice] the Freedom of Conversa¬ 
tion in France] and tho' I never was out of this dear Town, and 
fifty Miles about it, have been three Nights together dogged by 
Bravoes for an Intreague with a Cardinal's Mistress at Rome. 

It were endless to give you Particulars of this kind, but I 
can assure you, Mr. Spectator, there are about Twenty or 
Thirty of us in this Town, I mean by this Town the cities of 



412 THE SPECTATOR No. 136. Monday, Aug. 6, 1711 

London and Westminster) I say there are in Town a sufficient 
Number of us to make a Society among our selves; and since 
we cannot be believed any longer, I beg of you to print this my 
Letter, that we may meet together, and be under such Regula¬ 
tion as there may be no Occasion for Belief or Confidence among 
us. If you think fit, we might be called The Historians, for 
Liar is become a very harsh Word. And that a Member of 
the Society may not hereafter be ill received by the rest of 
the World, I desire you would explain a little this sort of Men, 
and let not us Historians be ranked, as we are in the Imagina¬ 
tions of ordinary People, among common Liars, Make-bates, 
Impostors, and Incendiaries. For your Instruction herein, 
you are to know that an Historian, in Conversation, is only a 
Person of so pregnant a Fancy that he cannot be contented with 
ordinary Occurrences. I know a Man of Quahty of our Order, 
who is of the wrong side of Forty three, and has been of that 
Age, according to Tully‘s Jest, for some Years since, whose 
Vein is upon the Roman tick. Give him the least Occa.sion, 
and he will tell you something so very particular that happened 
in such a Year and in such Company, where by the by was 
present such a one, who was afterwards made such a thing. 
Out of all these Circumstances, in the best Language in the 
World, he will join together with such probable Incidents an 
Account that shews a Person of the deepest Penetration, the 
honestest Mind, and withal something so Humble when he 
speaks of himself, that you would Admire. Dear Sir, why 
should this be Lying? There is nothing so instructive. He 
has withal the gravest Aspect; something so very venerable and 
great! Another of these Historians is a young Man whom we 
would take in, tho' he extreamly wants Parts; as People send 
Children (before they can learn any thing) to School, to keep 
them out of Harm’s way. He tells things which have nothing 
at all in them, and can neither please nor displease, but merely 
take up your Time to no manner of Purpose, no manner of 
Delight; but he is Good-natured, and does it because he loves 
to be saying something to you, and entertain you. 

I could name you a Soldier that hath done very great things 
without Slaughter; he is prodigiously dull and slow of Head, 
but what he can say is for ever false, so that we must have him. 

Give me leave to tell you of one more who is a Lover; he is 
the most afflicted Creature in the World lest what happened 
between him and a Great Beauty should ever be known. Yet 
again, he comforts himself. Hang the Jade her Woman. If 
Mony can keep Slut trusty I .will do it, tho* I mortgage every 
Acre: Anthony and Cleopatra for that: All for Love, and the 
World well lost. . . . 



No. 136. Monday, Aug. 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 413 

Then, Sir, there is my little Merchant, honest Indigo of 
the Change, there's my Man fon Loss and Gain, there's Tare 
and Tret, there's lying ail round the Globe; he has such a 
prodigious Intelhgence he knows all the French are doing, and 
what we intend or ought to intend, and has it from such hands. 
But alas whither am I running! While I complain, while I 
remonstrate to you, even all this is a Lie, and there is not one 
such Person of Quality, I^over, Soldier, or Merchant, as I have 
now described in the whole World that I know of. But I will 
catch my self once in my Life, and in spite of Nature speak one 
Truth, to wit that I am 

Your Humble Servant, &c.* 

T 


No. 137. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, August 7. 

At haec etiam servis semper libera fuerunt, timerent, gauderent, dolerent, 
suo potius quam alterius arbitrio .—l ull. Epist. 

It is no small Concern to me, that I find so many Complaints 
from that Part of Mankind whose Portion it is to live in Servi¬ 
tude, that those whom they depend upon will not allow them 
to be even as happy as their Condition will admit of. There 
are, as these unhappy Correspondents inform me, Ma.sters who 
are offended at a chearful Countenance, and think a Servant is 
broke loose from them, if he does not preserve the utmost Awe 
in their Presence. There is one who says, if he looks satisfied, 
his Master asks him what makes him so pert this Morning; if 
a little sower. Hark ye. Sirrah, are not you paid your Wages ? 
The poor Creatures live in the most extreme Misery together: 
The Master knows not how to pre.serve Respect, nor the Ser¬ 
vant how to give it. It seems this Person is of so sullen a 
Nature, that he knows but little Satisfaction in the Midst of a 
plentiful Fortune, and secretly frets to see any Appearance of 
Content in one that lives upon the hundredth Part of his 
Income, who is unhappy in the Possession of the Whole. Un¬ 
easy Persons, who cannot possess their own Minds, vent their 
Spleen upon all who depend upon them; which, I think, is 
expressed in a Uvely manner in the following Letters. 

'Sir, August 2, lyii. 

I have read your Spectator of the 3d of the last Month, and 
wish I had the Happiness of being preferred to serve so good a 
Master as Sir Roger. The Character of my Master is the very 



414 THE SPECTATOR No. 137. Tuesday, Aug. 7, 1711 

Reverse of that good and gentle Knight's. All his Directions 
are given, and his Mind revealed by way of Contraries: As when 
any thing is to be remembered, with a peculiar Cast of Face he 
cries, Be sure to forget now. If I am to make Haste back. 
Don’t come these two Hours; be sure to call by the Way upon some 
of your Companions. Then another excellent Way of his is, 
if he sets me any thing to do, which he knows must necessarily 
take up Half a Day, he calls ten times in a Quarter of an Hour 
to know whether I have done yet. This is his Manner, and the 
same Perverseness runs through all his Actions, according as the 
Circumstances vary. Besides all this, he is so suspicious, that 
he submits himself to the Drudgery of a Spy. He is as un¬ 
happy himself as he makes his Servants: He is constantly 
watching us, and we differ no more in Pleasure and Liberty 
than as a Gaoler and a Prisoner. He lays Traps for Faults, and 
no sooner makes a Discovery, but falls into such Language, as 
I am more ashamed of for coming from him, than for being 
directed to me. This, Sir, is a short Sketch of a Master I have 
served upwards of nine Years; and tho' I have never wronged 
him, I confess my Despair of pleasing him has very much 
abated my Endeavour to do it. If you will give me Leave 
to steal a Sentence out of my Master's Clarendon, I shall 
tell you my Case in a Word, Being used worse than I deserved, 
I cared less to deserve well than I had done. 

I am, 

Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 

Ralph Valei ' 

‘ Dear Mr. Specter, 

I am the next Thing to a Lady's Woman, and am under both 
my Lady and her Woman. I am so used by them both, that 
I should be very glad to see them in the Specter. My Lady 
her self is of no Mind in the World, and for that Reason her 
Woman is of twenty Minds in a Moment. My Lady is one that 
never knows what to do with her self; she pulls on and puts 
off every thing she wears twenty times before she resolves 
upon it for that Day. I stand at one End of the Room, and 
reach things to her Woman. When my Lady asks for a thing, 
I hear and have half brought it, when the Woman meets me 
in the Middle of the Room to receive it, and at that Instant she 
says No she will not have it. Then I go back, and her Woman 
comes up to her, and by this Time she will have that, and two 
or three things more in an Instant: The Woman and I run to 
each other; I am loaded and delivering the things to her when 
my Lady says she wants none of all these things, and we are 



/Vo. 137. Tuesday, Aug. 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 415 

the dullest Creatures in the World, and she the unhappiest 
Woman living, for she shan’t be dress’d in any time. Thus we 
stand not knowing what to do, when our good Lady with all the 
Patience in the World tells us as plain as she can speak, that 
she will have Temper because we have no manner of Under¬ 
standing, and begins again to dress, and see if we can find out 
of our selves what we are to do. When she is Dressed she goes 
to Dinner, and after she has disliked every thing there, she calls 
for the Coach, then commands it in again, and then she will 
not go out at all, and then will go too, and orders the Chariot. 
N^ow good Mr, Specter, I desire you would, in the Behalf of all 
who serve froward Ladies, give out in your Paper, that nothing 
can be done without allowing Time for it, and that one cannot 
be back again with what one was sent for if one is called back 
before one can go a Step for that they want. And if you please 
let them know that all Mistresses are as like as all Servants. 

I a 4 ti 

Your loving Friend, 

Patience Giddy.' 

These arc great Calamities; but I met the other Day in the 
five Fields towards Chelsea, a pleasanter Tyrant than either of 
the above represented. A fat Fellow was puffing on in his 
open Wastcoat; a Boy of fourteen in a Livery carrying after 
him his Cloak, upper Coat, Hat, Wig, and Sword. The poor 
Lad was ready to sink with the Weight, and could not keep 
up with his Master, who turned back every half Furlong, and 
wondered what made the lazy young Dog lag behind. 

There is something very unaccountable, that People cannot 
put themselves in the Condition of the Persons below them 
when they consider the Commands they give. But there is 
nothing more common, than to see a Fellow (who, if he were 
reduced to it, would not be hired by any Man Uving) lament 
that he is troubled with the most worthless Dogs in Nature. 

It would, perhaps, be running too far out of common Life 
to urge, that he who is not Master of himself and his own 
Passions, cannot be a proper Master of another. Aequanimity 
in a Man’s own Words and Actions, will easily diffuse it self 
through his whole Family. Pamphilio has the happiest Hous- 
hold of any Man I know, and that proceeds from the human 
Regard he has to them in their private Persons, as well as in 
respect that they are his Servants. If there be any Occasion, 
wherein they may in themselv s be supposed to be unfit to 
attend their Master’s Concerns, by reason of any Attention 
to their own, he is so good as to pl.\ce himself in their Condition. 
I thought it very becoming in hir' when at Dinner the other 



4t6 the spectator No. 137. Tuesday, Aug. 7, 1711 

Day he made an Apology for want of more Attendants. He 
said, One of my Footmen is gone to the Wedding of his Sister, and 
the other I don't expect to Wait, because his Father died but two 
Days ago. T 


No. 138. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, August 8. 

Utitur in re non dubia testibus non necessariis. —Tull. 

One meets now and then with Persons who are extreamly 
learned and knotty in Expounding clear Cases. Tully tells us 
of an Author that spent some Pages to prove that Generals 
could not perform the Great Enterprizes which have made them 
so Illustrious, if they had not had Men. He asserted also, it 
seems, that a Minister at home, no more than a Commander 
abroad, could do any thing without other Men were his Instru¬ 
ments and Assistants. On this Occasion he produces the 
Example of Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, and Alexander him¬ 
self, whom he denies to have been capable of effecting what they 
did, except they had been followed by others. It is pleasant 
enough to see such Persons contend without Opponents, and 
triumph without Victory. 

The Author above-mention’d by the Orator, is placed for 
ever in a very ridiculous Light, and we meet every Day in Con¬ 
versation such as deserve the same kind of Renown for troub¬ 
ling those with whom they Converse with the like Certainties. 
The Persons that I have always thought to deserve the highest 
Admiration in this kind are your ordinary Story-tellers, who 
are most religiously careful of keeping to the Truth in every 
particular Circumstance of a Narration, whether it concern 
the main end, or not. A Gentleman whom I had the Honour 
to be in Company with the other Day, upon some Occasion 
that he was pleas'd to take, said. He remember'd a very pretty 
Repartee made by a very Witty Man in King Charles's time 
upon the like Occasion. I remember (said he, upon entring 
into the Tale) much about the time of Oates's Plot, that a 
Cousin-German of mine and I were at the Bear in Holborn: No, 
I am out, it was at the Cross Keys', but Jack Thomson was 
there, for he was very great with the Gentleman who made the 
Answer. But I am sure it was spoken somewhere thereabouts, 
for we drank a Bottle in that Neighbourhood every Evening: 
But no matter for all that, the.thing is the same; but- 

He was going on to settle the Geography of the Jest when 
I left the Room, wondering at this odd turn of Head which 



ATo. 138. Wednesday, Aug. 11 THE SPECTATOR 417 

can play away its Words, with uttering nothing to the purpose, 
still observing its own Impertinences, and yet proceeding in 
them. I do not question but he inform’d the rest of his 
Audience, who had more Patience than I, of the Birth and 
Parentage, as well as the Collateral Alliances of his Family, 
who made the Repartee, and of him who provoked him to it. 

It is no small Misfortune to any who have a just value for 
their Time, when this Quality of being so very Circumstantial, 
and careful to be exact, happens to shew it self in a Man whose 
Quality obliges them to attend his Proofs, that it is now Day, 
and the like. But this is augmented when the same Genius 
gets into Authority, as it often does. Nay, I have known it 
more than once ascend the very Pulpit. One of this sort 
taking it in his Head to be a great Admirer of Dr. Tillotson and 
Dr. Beveridge, never fail’d of proving out of these great Authors 
things which no Men living would have denied him upon his 
own single Authority. One Day resolving to come to the Point 
in hand, he said. According to that excellent Divine, I will 
enter upon the Matter, or in his Words in his fifteenth Sermon 
of the Folio Edition, Page 160, 

I shall briefly explain the Words, and then consider the Matter 
contained in them. 

This honest Gentleman needed not, one would think, strain 
his Modesty so far as to alter his design of Entring upon the 
Matter, to that of Briefly explaining. But so it was, that he 
would not even be contented with that Authority, but added 
>.lso the other Divine to strengthen his Method, and told us. 
With the Pious and Learned Dr, Beveridge, Page 4th of his 9th 
Volume, I shall endeavour to make it as plain as I can from the 
Words which I have now read, wherein for that Purpose we shall 

consider - This Wiseacre was reckoned by the Parish, who 

did not understand him, a most Excellent Preacher, but that 
he read too much, and was so Humble that he did not trust 
enough to his own Parts. 

Next to these ingenious Gentlemen, who argue for what no 
body can deny them, are to be ranked a sort of People who do 
not indeed attempt to prove insignificant things, but are ever 
labouring to raise Arguments with you about Matters you will 
give up to them without the least Controversy. One of these 
People told a Gentleman who said he saw Mr. such a one go 
this Morning at nine a Clock towards the Gravel-Pits, Sir, I 
must beg your Pardon for that, for tho’ I am very loath to 
have any Dispute with you, yet I must take the Liberty to tell 
you it was nine when I saw him at St. James's. When Men 
of this Genius are pretty far gone in Learning they will put you 



4i8 the spectator No. 138. Wednesday, Aug. 8, 1711 

to prove that Snow is White, and when you are upon that 
Topick can say that there is really no such thing as Colour in 
Nature; in a Word, they can turn what little Knowledge they 
have, into a ready Capacity of raising Doubts; into a Capacity 
of being always frivolous and always unanswerable. It was of 
two Disputants of this impertinent and laborious kind that the 
Cynick said, One of these Fellows is Milking a Ram, and the other 
holds the Pail. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The Exercise of the Snuff-Box, according to the most fashion¬ 
able Airs and Motions, in opposition to the Exercise of the Fan, 
will be Taught with the best plain or perfum'd Snuff, at Charles 
Lillie’5, Perfumer, at the Corner of Bauford-Buildings in the 
Strand, and Attendance given for the benefit of the young Mer¬ 
chants about the Exchange for two Hours every Day at Noon, 
except Saturdays, at a Toy-Shop near Garraway’s Coffee-house. 
There will be likewise Taught The Ceremony of the Snuff-box, 
or Rules for offering Snuff to a Stranger, a Friend, or a Mistress, 
according to the Degrees of Familiarity or Distance; with an 
Explanation of the Careless, the Scornful, the Politick, and the 
Surly Pinch, and the Gestures proper to each of them. 

N. B. The Undertaker does not question but in a short time to 
have form'd a Body of Regular Snuff-Boxes ready to meet and 
make Head against all the Regiment of Fans which have been 
lately Disciplin’d, and are now in Motion. T 


No. 139. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, August 9. 

Vera gloria radices agit, atque etiam propagatur. Ficta omnia 
celertler, tanguam flosculi, dccidunt, nec simulatum potest quid- 
quam esse diuturnum. —Tull. 

Of all the Affections which attend Human Life, the Love of 
Glory is the most Ardent. According as this is Cultivated in 
Princes, it produces the greatest Good or the greatest Evil. 
Where Sovereigns have it by Impressions received from Educa¬ 
tion only, it creates an Ambitious rather than a Noble Mind; 
where it is the natural Bent of the Prince's Inclination, it 
prompts him to the Pursuit of Things truly Glorious. The two 
greatest Men now in Europe (according to the common accepta- 



No. 139 - Thursday, Aug. g, IT 11 THE SPECTATOR 419 

tion of the Word Great) are Lewis King of France, and Peter 
Emperor of Russia. As it is certain that all Fame does not 
arise from the Practice of Virtue, it is, methinks, no unpleasing 
Amusement to examine the Glory of these Potentates, and dis¬ 
tinguish that which is empty, perishing and frivolous, from 
what is solid, lasting and important. Lewis of France had 
his Infancy attended by Crafty and Worldly Men, who made 
Extent of Territory the most glorious Instances of Power, and 
mistook the spreading of Fame for the Acquisition of Honour. 
The young Monarch’s Heart was by such Conversation easily 
deluded into a fondness for Vain glory, and upon the.se unjust 
Principles to form or fall in with suitable Projects of Invasion, 
Rapine, Murder, and all the Guilts that attend War when it is 
unjust. At the same time this Tyranny was laid. Sciences and 
Arts were encouraged in the most generous Manner, as if Men 
of higher Faculties were to be bribed to permit the Massacre 
of the rest of the World. Every Superstructure which the 
Court of France built upon their first Designs, which were in 
themselves Vicious, was suitable to its false Foundation. The 
Ostentation of Riches, the Vanity of Equipage, Shame of 
Poverty, and Ignorance of Modesty, were the common Arts 
of Life. The Generous Love of one Woman was changed into 
Gallantry for all the Sex, and Friendships among Men turned 
into Commerces of Interest, or mere Professions. While these 
were the Rules of Life, Perjuries in the Prince, and a general 
Corruption of Manners in the Subject, were the Snares in which 
France has Entangled all her Neighbours. With such false 
Colours have the Eyes of Lewis been Enchanted from the 
Debauchery of his early Youth, to the Superstition of his pre¬ 
sent old Age. Hence it is, that he has the Patience to have 
Statues erected to his Prowess, his Valour, his Fortitude; and 
in the Softnesses and Luxury of a Court, to be applauded for 
Magnanimity and Enterprize in Military Atchievements. 

Peter Alexovitz of Russia, when he came to Years of Man¬ 
hood, though he found himself Emperor of a vast and numerous 
People, Master of an endless Territory, absolute Commander of 
the Lives and Fortunes of his Subjects, in the midst of this 
unbounded Power and Greatness turned his Thoughts upon 
Himself and People with Sorrow. Sordid Ignorance and a 
Brute Manner of Life this Generous Prince beheld, and Con¬ 
temned from the Light of his own Genius. His Judgment 
suggested this to him, and his Courage prompted him to amend 
it. In order to this he did not send to the Nation from whence 
the rest of the World has borrowed its PoUtencss, but himself 
left his Diadem to learn the true Way to Glory and Honour, and 
AppUcation to useful Arts, wherein to employ the Laborious, 



420 THE SPECTATOR No. 139. Thursday, Aug. g, 1711 

the Simple, the Honest part of his People. Mechanick Em¬ 
ployments and Operations were very justly the first Objects 
of his Favour and Observation. With this glorious Intention 
he travelled into Foreign Nations in an obscure Manner, above 
receiving little Honours where he sojourned, but prying into 
what was of more Consequence, their Arts of Peace and of 
War. By this means has this great Prince laid the Founda¬ 
tion of a great and lasting Fame, by personal Labour, personal 
Knowledge, personal Valour. It would be Injury to any of 
Antiquity to Name them with him. Who, but himself, ever 
left a Throne to learn to sit in it with more Grace ? Who ever 
thought himself mean in Absolute Power, 'till he had learned 
to use it ? 

If we consider this wonderful Person, it is Perplexity to know 
where to begin his Encomium. Others may in a Metaphorical 
or Philosophick Sense be said to command themselves, but 
this Emperor is also literally under his own Command. How 
Generous and how Good was his entring his own Name as a 
Private Man in the Army he raised, that none in it might 
expect to out-run the Steps with which he himself advanced ? 
By such Measures this god-like Prince learned to Conquer, 
learned to use his Conquests. How Terrible has he appeared 
in Battle, how gentle in Victory ? Shall then the base Arts of 
the Frenchman be held Polite, and the honest Labours of the 
Russian, Barbarous ? No: Barbarity is the Ignorance of true 
Honour, or placing any thing instead of it. The unjust Prince 
is Ignoble and Barbarous, the Good Prince only Renowned 
and Glorious. 

Tho’ men may impose upon themselves what they please by 
their corrupt Imaginations, Truth will ever keep its Station: 
and as Glory is nothing else but the Shadow of Virtue, it will 
certainly disappear at the Departure of Virtue. But how 
carefully ought the true Notions of it to be preserved, and how 
industrious should we be to encourage any Impulses towards 
it? The Westminster School-boy that said the other Day he 
could not sleep or play for the Colours in the Hall, ought to be 
free from receiving a Blow for ever. 

But let us consider what is truly Glorious, according to the 
Author I have to Day quoted in the Front of my Paper. 

The Perfection of Glory, says Tully, consists in these three 
Particulars: That the People love us; that they have Confidence in 
us; that being affected with a certain Admiration towards us, they 
think we deserve Honour. This was spoken of Greatness in a 
Commonwealth: But if one were to form a Notion of Consum¬ 
mate Glory under our Constitution, one must add to the 
above-mentioned Felicities a certain necessary Inexistence, and 



N’o. 139 - Thursday, Aug. i), 1711 THE SPECTATOR 421 

Disrelish of all the rest, without the Prince's Favour. He should, 
methinks, have Riches, Power, Honour, Command, Glory; but 
Riches, Power, Honour, Command and Glory should have no 
Charms, but as accompanied with the Affection of his Prince. 
He should, methinks, be Popular because a Favourite, and a 
Favourite because Popular, Were it not to make the Char¬ 
acter too imaginary, I would give him Sovereignty over some 
Foreign Territory, and make him esteem that an empty 
Addition without the kind Regards of his own Prince. One 
may merely have an Idea of a Man thus composed and circum¬ 
stantiated, and if he were so made for Power without an 
Incapacity of giving Jealousy, he would be also Glorious with¬ 
out Possibility of receiving Disgrace. This Humility and this 
Inmortance must make his Glory immortal. 

These Thoughts are apt to draw me beyond the usual 
Length of this Paper, but if I could suppose such Rhapsodies 
could out-live the common Fate of ordinary things, I would 
say these Sketches and faint Images of Glory were drawn in 
August 1711, when John Duke of Marlborough made that 
memorable March wherein he took the French Lines without 
Blood-shed. T 


No. 140, 

[STEELE.] Friday, August 10. 

. . Animum nunc hue celerem nunc dividit illuc. —Virg. 

When I acquaint my Reader that I have many other Letters 
not yet acknowledged, I believe he will own, what I have a 
mind he should believe, that I have no small Charge upon me, 
but am a Person of some Consequence in this World. I shall 
therefore employ the pre.sent Hour only in reading Petitions, 
in the Order as follows. 

* Mr . Spectator, 

I have lost so much Time already, that I desire, upon the 
Receipt hereof, you would sit down immediately and give me 
your Answer. I would know of you whether a Pretender of 
mine really loves me. As well as I can 1 will describe his 
Manners. When he sees me he is always talking of Constancy, 
but vouchsafes to visit me but once a Fortnight, and then is 
always in haste to be gone. When I am sick, I hear, he says 
he is mightily concerned, but neither comes nor sends, because, 
as he tells his Acquaintance with a Sigh, he does not care to 
let me know all the Power I have over him, and how 



422 THE SPECTATOR No. 140. Friday, Aug. 10. 1711 

impossible it is for him to live without me. When he leaves 
the Town he writes once in six Weeks, desires to hear from 
me, complains of the Torment of Absence, speaks of Flames, 
Tortures, Languishings and Extasies. He has the Cant of an 
impatient Lover, but keeps the Pace of a Lukewarm one. 
You know I must not go faster than he docs, and to move at 
this rate is as tedious as counting a great Clock. But you are 
to know he is rich, and my Mother says, As he is slow he is 
sure; He will love me long, if he love me little: But I appeal to 
you whether he loves at all 

Your Neglected 

Humble Servant, 

Lydia Novell. 

All these Fellows who have Mony are extreamly sawcy and cold: 
Pray Sir, tell them of it.' 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I have been delighted with nothing more through the whole 
Course of your Writings than the substantial Account you 
lately gave of Wit, and I could wish you would take some other 
Opportunity to express further the Corrupt Taste the Age is 
run into; which I am chiefly apt to attribute to the Prevalency 
of a few popular Authors, whose Merit in some respects has 
given a Sanction to their Faults in others. Thus the Imitators 
of Milton seem to place all the Excellency of that sort of Writ¬ 
ing either in the uncouth or antique Words, or something else 
which was highly vicious, tho' pardonable, in that Great Man. 
The Admirers of what we call Point, or Turn, look upon it as 
the peculiariHappiness to which Cowley, Ovid and others owe 
their Reputation, and therefore endeavour to imitate them 
only in such Instances; what is Just, Proper and Natural does 
not seem to be the Question with them, but by what Means a 
quaint Antithesis may be brought about, how one Word may 
be made to look two ways, and what will be the Consequence of 
a forced Allusion. Now tho’ such Authors appear to me to 
resemble those who make them selves fine, instead of being 
well dressed or graceful; yet the Mischief is that these Beauties 
in them, which I call Blemishes, are thought to proceed from 
Luxuriance of Fancy, and overflowing of good Sense: In one 
Word, they have the Character of being too Witty; but if you 
would acquaint the World they are not Witty at all, you would, 
among many others, oblige. 

Sir, 

Your Most Benevolent Reader, 

R. D/ 



No. 140. Friday, Aug. 10, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 423 

‘Sir, 

1 am a young Woman, and reckoned Pretty, therefore you '11 
pardon me that I trouble you to decide a Wager between me 
and a Cousin of mine, who is always contradicting one because 
he understands Latin. Pray, Sir, is Dimple spelt with a single 
or a double P ? 

I am. Sir, 

Your very Humble Servant, 

Betty Saunter. 

Pray Sir direct thus. To the kind Querist, and leave it at Mr. 
Lillie’s, for 1 don't care to be known in the thing at all. 

I am. Sir, again Your Humble Servant.' 

‘Mr. Spectator, 

I must needs tell you there are several of your Papers I do 
not much like. You arc often so Nice there is no enduring 
you, and so Learned there is no understanding you. What 
have you to do with our l^etticoats ? 

Your Humble Servant, 

Par the nope.’ 

* Mr. Spectator, 

Last Night as I was walking in the Park I met a Couple of 
Friends: Prithee Jack, says one of them, let us go drink a 
Glass of Wine, for I am fit for nothing else. This put me upon 
reflecting on the many Miscarriages which happen in Con¬ 
versations over Wine, when Men go to the Bottle to remove 
such Flumours as it only stirs up and awakens. This I could 
not attribute more to any thing than to tlie Humour of putting 
Company upon others which Men do not like themselves. 
Pray, Sir, declare in your Papers, that he who is a troublesome 
Companion to himself, will not be an agreeable one to others. 
Let People reason themselves into good Humour, before they 
impose themselves upon their Friends. Pray, Sir, be as 
Eloquent as you can upon this Subject, and do Humane Life 
so much good, as to argue powerfully, that it is not every one 
that can swallow who is fit to drink a Glass of Wine. 

Your most humble Servant* 

* Sir, 

I this Morning cast my Eye upon your Paper concerning the 
Expence of Time. You are very obliging to the Women, 
especially those who are not Young and past Gallantry, by 
touching so gently upon Gaming: Therefore I hope you do not 
think it wrong to employ a little leisure time in that Diversion; 



424 THE SPECTATOR No. 140. Friday, Aug, 10, 1711 


but I should be glad to hear you say something upon the 
Behaviour of some of the Female Gamesters. 

I have observed Ladies who in all other re.spects are gentle. 
Good-humoured, and the very Pinks of good Breeding; who as 
soon as the Ombre Table is called for, and set down to their 
Business, are immediately Transmigrated into the veriest 
Wasps in Nature. 

You must know I keep my Temper and win their Money; 
but am out of Countenance to take it, it makes them so very 
uneasie. Be pleased, dear Sir, to instruct them to lose with a 
better Grace and you will oblige 

Yours, 

Rachel Basto.' 


'Mr. Spectator, 


Your Kindness to Eleonora, in one of your Papers, has given 
me Encouragement to do my self the Honour of Writing to you. 
The great Regard you have so often expressed for the Instruc¬ 
tion and Improvement of our Sex, will, I hope, in your own 
Opinion sufficiently excuse me from making any Apology for 
the Impertinence of this Letter. The great desire I have to 
Embellish my Mind with some of those Graces which you say 
are so becoming, and which you assert Reading helps us to, 
has made me uneasie 'till I am put in a Capacity of attauning 
them: This, Sir, I shall never think my self in, 'till you shall be 
pleased to recommend some Author or Authors to my Perusal. 

I thought indeed, when I first cast my Eye on Eleonora's 
Letter, that I should have had no occasion for requesting it 
of you; but, to my very great Concern, I found, on the Perusal 
of that Spectator, I was entirely disappointed, and am as much 
at a loss how to make use of my Time for that end as ever. 
Pray, Sir, oblige me at least with one Scene, as you were pleased 
to entertain Eleonora with your Prologue. I write to you not 
only my own Sentiments, but also those of several others of 
my Acquaintance, who are as little pleased with the ordinary 
manner of spending one's Time as my self: And if a fervent 
Desire after Knowledge, and a great Sense of our present 
Ignorance, may be thought a good presage and earnest of 
Improvement, you may look upon your Time you shall bestow 
in answering this Request not thrown away to no purpose. 
And I can't but add, that unless you have a particular and 
more than ordinary Regard for Eleonora, I have a better Title 
to your Favour than she; since I do not content my self with 
Tea-Table Reading of your Papers, but it is my Entertain¬ 
ment very often when alone in my Closet. To shew you I am 
capable of Improvement and hate Flattery, I acknowledge I 
do not like some of your Papers; but even there I am readier 



No. 140. Friday, Aug. 10, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 425 

to call in question my own shallow Understanding, than Mr. 
Spectator's profound Judgment. 

I am, Sir, your already [and in hopes 
of being more your) obliged Servant, 

PARTHENIA.’ 

This last Letter is written with so urgent and serious an Air, 
that I cannot but think it incumbent upon me to comply with 
her Commands, which I shall do very suddenly. T 


No. 141. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, August ii. 

. . . Migravit ah aure voluptas 

Omnis . . .—Hor. 

In the present Emptiness of the Town, 1 have several Applica¬ 
tions from the lower Parts of the Players, to admit Suffering to 
pass for Acting. They in very obliging Terms desire me to let 
a Fall on the Ground, a Stumble, or a good Slap on the Back, 
be reckoned a Jest. These Gambols I shall tolerate for a 
Season, because I hope the Evil cannot continue longer than 
till the People of Condition and Taste return to Town. The 
Method, some time ago, was to entertain that Part of the 
Audience who have no Faculty above Eyesight, with Rope- 
Dancers and Tumblers; which was a way discreet enough, be¬ 
cause it prevented Confu-sion, and distinguished such as could 
show all the Postures which the Body is capable of, from those 
who were to represent all the Passions to which the Mind is 
subject. But tho’ this was prudently settled. Corporeal and 
Intellectual Actors ought to be kept at a still wider Distance 
than to appear on the same Stage at all: For which Reason I 
must propose some Methods for the Improvement of the Bear- 
Garden, by dismissing all Bodily Actors to that Quarter. 

In Cases of greater Moment, where Men appear in Publick, 
the Consequence and Importance of the thing can bear them 
out. And tho’ a Pleader or Preacher is Hoarse or Awkward, 
the weight of their Matter commands Respect and Attention; 
but in Theatrical Speaking, if the Performer is not exactly 
proper and graceful, he is utterly ridiculous. In Cases where 
there is little else expected, but the Pleasure of the Ears and 
Eyes, the least Diminution of that Pleasure is the highest 
Offence. In Acting, barely to perform the Part is not com¬ 
mendable, but to be the least out is contemptible. To avoid 
these Difficulties and Delicacies, I am informed, that while I 
was out of Town the Actors have flown in the Air, and play’d 



426 THE SPECTATOR No.i^i. Saturday, Aug. ii, 

such Pranks, and run such Hazards, that none but the Ser¬ 
vants of the Fire-Office, Tilers and Masons, could have been 
able to perform the like. The Author of the following Letter, 
it seems, has been of the Audience at one of these Entertain¬ 
ments, and has accordingly complained to me upon it; but I 
think he has been to the utmost degree Severe against what is 
exceptionable in the Play he mentions, without dwelling so 
much as he might have done on the Author's most excellent 
Talent of Humour. The pleasant Pictures he has drawn of 
Life, should have been more kindly mentioned, at the same 
time that he banishes his Witches, who are too dull Devils to 
be attacked with so much Warmth. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

Upon a Report that Moll White had follow'd you to Town, 
and was to act a Part in the Lancashire Witches, I went last 
Week to see that Play. It was my Fortune to sit next to a 
Country Justice of the Peace, a Neighbour (as he said) of Sir 
Roger's, who pretended to shew her to us in one of the Dances. 
There was Witchcraft enough in the Entertainment almost to 
incline me to believe him; Ben. Johnson was almost lamed; 
young Bullock narrowly saved his Neck; the Audience was 
astonish’d, and an old Acquaintance of mine, a Person of 
Worth, whom I wou'd have bow'd to in the Pit, at two Yards 
distance did not know me. 

If you were what the Country People reported you, a white 
Witch, I cou'd have wish'd you had been there to have 
exorcis'd that Rabble of Broomsticks, with which we were 
haunted for above three Hours. I cou'd have allow'd them to 
set Clod in the Tree, to have scared the Sportsmen, plagu'd the 
Justice, and employ’d honest Teague with his Holy Water. 
This was the proper Use of them in Comedy, if the Author had 
stopp'd here; but I cannot conceive what Relation the Sacri¬ 
fice of the Black Lamb, and the Ceremonies of their Worsliip to 
the Devil, have to the Business of Mirth and Humour. 

The Gentleman who writ this Play, and has drawn some 
Characters in it very justly, appears to have been mis-led in his 
Witchcraft by an unwary following the inimitable Shakespear. 
The Incantations in Mackbeth have a Solemnity admirably 
adapted to the Occasion of that Tragedy, and fill the Mind 
with a suitable Horror; besides, that the Witches are a part of 
the Story itself, as we find it very particularly related in Hector 
Boetius, from whom he seems to have taken it. This therefore 
is a proper Machine where The Business is dark, horrid and 
bloody; but is extreamly foreign from the Affair of Comedy. 
Subjects of this kind, which are in themselves disagreeable, 



No. i/[i. Saturday, Aug. II, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 427 

can at no time become entertaining, but by passing thro' an 
Imagination like Shakespear‘s to form them; for which Reason 
Mr. Dryden wou’d not allow even Beaumont and Fletcher 
capable of imitating him. 

But Shakespear’s Magick cou'd not copy'd he, 

Within that Circle none durst Walk but He. 

I should not however have troubled you with these Remarks, 
if there were not something else in this Comedy, which wants 
to be exorcis’d more than the Witches. I mean the Freedom 
of some Passages, which I should have overlook’d, if I had not 
observed that those Jests can raise the loudest Mirth, tho’ they 
are painful to right Sense, and an Outrage upon Modesty. 

We must attribute such Liberties to the Taste of that Age, 
but indeed by such Representations a Poet sacrifices the best 
Part of his Audience to the worst; and, as one wou’d think, 
neglects the Boxes, to write to the Orange Wenches. 

I must not conclude till I have taken notice of the Moral 
with which this Comedy ends. The two young Ladies having 
given a notable Example of outwitting those who had a Right 
in the Disposal of them, and marrying without Consent of 
Parents, one of the injur'd Parties, who is easily reconcil'd, 
winds up all with this Remark, 

, . . Design whate’er we will, 

There is a Fate which over-rules us still. 

We are to suppose that the Gallants are Men of Merit, but 
if they had been Rakes the Excuse might have serv'd as well, 
Hans CarveVs Wife was of the same Principle, but has ex¬ 
press'd it with a Delicacy which shews she is not serious in her 
Excuse, but in a sort of Humorous Philosophy turns off the 
Thought of her Guilt, and says 

That if weak Women go astray 
Their Stars are more in fault than they. 

This no doubt is a full Reparation, and dismisses the Audience 
with very edifying Impressions. 

These things fall under a Province you have partly pursu’d 
already, and therefore demand your Animadversion, for the 
regulating so Noble an Entertainment as that of the Stage. 
It were to be wished that all who write for it hereafter wou’d 
raise their Genius, by the Ambition of pleasing People of the 
best Understanding; and leave others who shew nothing of the 
Human Species but Risibility, to seek their Diversion at the 
Bear-Garden, or some other Privileg’d Place, where Reason and 
good Manners have no Right to disturb them. 

August 8, 1711. 

T 


I am, &c.’ 



428 THE SPECTATOR No. 142. Monday, Aug. 13, 1711 


No. 142. 

[STEELE.] Monday, August 13. 

. . . Irrupta tenet copula . . .—Hor. 

The following Letters being Genuine, and the Images of a 
Worthy Passion, I am willing to give the old Lady's Admoni¬ 
tion to my self, and the Representation of her own Happiness, 
a Place in my Writings. 

'Mr. Spectator, August g, ij 11. 

I am now in the Sixty seventh Year of my Age, and read you 
with Approbation; but methinks you do not strike at the Root 
of the greatest Evil in Life, which is the false Notion of Gal¬ 
lantry in Love. It is, and has long been, upon a very ill foot; 
but I who have been a Wife Forty Years, and was iDred in a 
way that has made me ever since very happy, see through the 
Folly of it. In a Word, Sir, When I was a young Woman, all 
who avoided the Vices of the Age were very carefully educated, 
and all Phantastical Objects were turned out of our Sight. 
The Tapistry Hangings, with the great and venerable Sim¬ 
plicity of the Scripture Stories, had better Effects than now the 
Loves of Venus and Adonis, or Bacchus and Ariadne in your 
fine present Prints. The Gentleman I am Married to made 
Love to me in Rapture, but it was the Rapture of a Christian 
and a Man of Honour, not a Romantick Hero, or a Whining 
Coxcomb: This put our Life upon a right Basis. To give you 
an Idea of our Regard one to another, I enclose to you several 
of his Letters writ Forty Years ago, when my Lover; and one 
writ t’other Day, after so many Years Cohabitation. 

Your Servant, 

Andromache.* 

'*Madam, August y, 1671. 

If my Vigilance and ten thousand Wishes for your Welfare 
and Repose could have any force, you last Night slept in 
Security, and had every good Angel in your Attendance. To 
have my Thoughts ever fix’d on you, to live in constant Fear 
of every Accident to which Human Life is liable, and to send 
up my hourly Prayers to avert ’em from you; I say. Madam, 
thus to think and thus to suffer, is what I do for Her who is in 
Pain at my Approach, and calls all my tender Sorrow Im¬ 
pertinence. You are now before my Eyes, my Eyes that are 
ready to flow with Tenderness, but cannot give Relief to my 
gushing Heart, that dictates what I am now saying, and yearns 
to tell you all its Achings. How art thou, oh my Soul, stoln 



No. 1/^2. Monday, Atig. 1^, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 429 

from thy self! How is all thy Attention broken! My Books 
arc blank Paper, and my Friends Intruders. I have no hope 
of Quiet but from your Pity. To grant it would make more 
for your Triumph. To give Pain is the Tyranny, to;make 
Happy the true Empire of Beauty. If you would consider 
ariglit, you'd find an agreeable Change in dismissing the 
Attendance of a Slave, to receive the Complaisance of a 
Companion. I bear the former in hopes of the latter Condition : 
As I live in Chains without murmuring at the Power which 
inflicts 'em, so I could enjoy Freedom without forgetting the 
Mercy that gave it. 

Madam, 

I am, 

your most Devoted, 

most obedient Servant.'* 

Tho* I made him no Declarations in his Favour, you see he had 
hopes of Me when he writ this in the Month following. 

"Madam, September 1671. 

Before the Light this Morning dawned upon the Earth I 
awak'd, and lay in expectation of its return, not that it cou'd 
give any new Sense of Joy to me, but as 1 hop’d it would bless 
you with its chearful Face, after a Quiet which I wish'd you 
last Night, If my Prayers are heard, the Day appear'd with 
all the Influence of a Merciful Creator upon your Person and 
Actions. Let others, my lovely Charmer, talk of a Blind Being 
that disposes their Hearts, I contemn their low Images of Love. 
I have not a Thought which relates to you, that I cannot with 
Confidence beseech the All-seeing Power to bless Me in. May 
he direct you in all your Steps, and reward your Innocence, 
your Sanctity of Manners, your prudent Youth, and becoming 
Piety, with the Continuance of his Grace and Protection. 
This is an unusual Language to Ladies; but you have a Mind 
elevated above the giddy Notions of a Sex insnared by Flattery, 
and mis-led by a false and short Adoration into a solid and long 
Contempt. Beauty, my fairest Creature, palls in the Posses¬ 
sion, but I love also your Mind; your Soul is as dear to me as my 
own; and if the Advantages of a liberal Education, some 
Knowledge, and as much Contempt of the World, join’d with 
the Endeavours towards a Life of strict Virtue and Religion, 
can qualify me to raise new Ideas in a Breast so well dispos'd 
as yours is, our Days will pass away with Joy; and old Age 
instead of introducing melancholy Prospects of Decay, give us 
hope of Eternal Youth in a better Life. I have but few 
Minutes from the Duty of my Employment to write in, and 



430 THE SPECTATOR No. 142. Monday, Aug. ijii 

without time to read over what I have writ, therefore beseech 
you to pardon the first Hints of my Mind, which I have ex¬ 
press’d in so little Order. 

I am. 

Dearest Creature, 

your most Obedient, 

most Devoted Servant.” 

The two next were Written after the Day for our Marriage was 
fix'd. 


"Madam, September 2^, i6yi. 

It is the hardest thing in the World to be in Love, and yet 
attend Business. As for me, all that speak to me find me out, 
and I must lock my self up, or other People will do it for me. 
A Gentleman ask’d me this Morning what News from Holland, 
and I answer’d She’s exquisitly handsome. Another desir’d 
to know when I had been last at Windsor, I reply’d She designs 
to go with me. Prethee allow me at least to kiss your Hand 
before the appointed Day, that my Mind may be in some Com- 

E Dsure. Methinks I could write a Volume to you, but all the 
anguage on Earth would fail in saying how much, and with 
what dis-interested Passion, 

/ am ever Yours.” 
September 30, 1671. 

"Dear Creature, Seven in the Morning. 

Next to the Influence of Heav’n, I am to thank you that I 
see the returning Day with Pleasure. To pass my Evenings 
in so sweet a Conversation, and have the Esteem of a Woman 
of your Merit, has in it a Particularity of Happiness no more to 
be express'd than return’d. But I am, my Lovely Creature, 
contented to be on the oblig’d Side, and to employ all my 
Days in new Endeavours to convince you and all the World 
of the Sense I have of your Condescension in Chusing, 
Madam, 

Your most Faithful, 

Most Obedient Humble Servant.” 
He was, when he writ the following Letter, as agreeable and 
pleasant a Man as any in England. 

"Madam, October 20, 167X. 

I beg Pardon that my Paper is not Finer, but I am forc’d to 
write from a Coffee-hou.se where I am attending about Busi¬ 
ness. There is a dirty Croud of Busie Faces ^ around me 



No. 142. Monday, Aug. 1^, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 431 

talking of Mony, while all my Ambition, all my Wealth is 
Love: Love, which animates my Heart, sweetens my Humour, 
enlarges my Soul, and affects every Action of my Life. ’Tis 
to my Lovely Charmer I owe that many noble Ideas are 
continually affix'd to my Words and Actions: 'Tis the natural 
Effect of that Generous Passion to create in the Admirers some 
Similitude of the Object admired; thus, my Dear, am I every 
Day to improve from so sweet a Companion. Look up, my 
Fair One, to that Heaven which made thee such, and join with 
me to implore its Influence on our tender innocent Hours, and 
beseech the Author of Love to bless the Rights he has ordain’d, 
and mingle with our Happiness a just Sense of our Transient 
Condition, and a Resignation to his Will, which only can 
regulate our Minds to a steady Endeavour to please him and 
each other. 

I am, for Ever, 

Your faithful Servant.’* 

I will not trouble you with more Letters at this time, hut if you 
saw the poor withered Hand which sends you these Minutes, I am 
sure you would smile to think that there is one who is so gallant as 
to speak of it still as so welcome a Present, after forty Years 
Possession of the Woman whom he writes to. 

’’Madam, June 23, 1711. 

I heartily beg your Pardon for my Omission to write Yester¬ 
day. It was no Failure of my tender Regard for you; but 
having been very much perplexed in my Thoughts on the 
Subject of my last, made me determine to suspend speaking 
of it till I came my self. But, my lovely Creature, know it is 
not in the Power of Age, or Misfortune, or any other Accident 
which hangs over human Life, to take from me the pleasing 
Esteem I have for you, or the Memory of the bright Figure you 
appeared in when you gave your Hand and Heart to. 

Madam, 

Your most grateful Husband, 

T and obedient Servant.’” 


No. 143. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, August 14, 

Non est vivere sed valere vita. —Mart. 

It is an unreasonable thing some Men expect of their Acquain¬ 
tance. They are ever complaining that they are out of Order, 
or displeas’d, or they know not how; and are so far from letting 



432 THE SPECTATOR No. 143. Tuesday, Aug. 14, 1711 

that be a Reason for retiring to their own Homes, that they 
make it their Argument for coming into Company. What has 
any Body to do with Accounts of a Man's being indispos'd but 
his Physician ? If a Man laments in Company, where the rest 
are in Humour enough to enjoy themselves, he should not take 
it ill if a Servant is order’d to present him with a Porringer of 
Cawdle or Posset-Drink, by way of Admonition that he go 
home to Bed. That Part of Life which we ordinarily under¬ 
stand by the Word Conversation, is an Indulgence to the 
sociable Part of our Make; and should incline us to bring our 
Proportion of good Will or good Humour among the Friends we 
meet with, and not to trouble them with Relations which must 
of Necessity oblige them to a real or feign'd Affliction. Cares, 
Distresses, Diseases, Uneasinesses, and Dislikes of our own, 
are by no Means to be obtruded upon our Friends. If we would 
consider how little of this Vicissitude of Motion and Rest, 
which we call Life, is spent with Satisfaction; we should be 
more tender of our Friends, than to bring them little Sorrows 
which do not belong to them. There is no real Life, but chear- 
ful Life; therefore Valetudinarians should be sworn, before 
they enter into Company, not to say a Word of themselves till 
the Meeting breaks up. It is not here pretended, that we 
should be always sitting with Chaplets of Flowers round our 
Heads, or be crowned with Roses, in order to make our Enter¬ 
tainments agreeable to us; but if (as it is usually observed) 
they who resolve to be merry, seldom are so; it will be much 
more unlikely for us to be well pleased, if they are admitted 
who are always complaining they are sad. Whatever we do 
we should keep up the Chearfulness of our Spirits, and never 
let them sink below an Inclination at least to be well pleased: 
The Way to this, is to keep our Bodies in Exercise, our Minds 
at Ease. That insipid State wherein neither are in Vigour, is 
not to be accounted any Part of our Portion of Being. When 
we are in the Satisfaction of some innocent Pleasure, or Pur¬ 
suit of some laudable Design, we are in the Possession of Life, 
of human Life. Fortune will give us Disappointments enough, 
and Nature is attended with Infirmities enough, without our 
adding to the unhappy Side of our Account by our Spleen or 
ill Humour. Poor Cotiilus, among so many real Evils, a 
chronical Distemper and a narrow Fortune, is never heard to 
complain: That equal Spirit of his, which any Man may have 
that, like him, will conquer Pride, Vanity, and Affectation, and 
follow Nature, is not to be broken, because it has no Points 
to contend for. To be anxious for nothing but what Nature 
demands as necessary, if it is not the way to an Estate, is the 
way to what Men aim at by getting an Estate. This Temper 



No. 143. Tuesday, Aug. 14, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 433 

will preserve Health in the Body, as well as Tranquility in the 
Mind. Cottilus sees the World in an Hurry, with the same 
Scorn that a sober Person sees a Man drunk. Had he been 
contented with what he ought to have been, how could, says 
he, such a one have met with such a Disappointment? If 
another had valued his Mistress for what he ought to have loved 
her, he had not been in her Power; If her Virtue had had a Part 
of his Passion, her Levity had been his Cure; she could not then 
have been false and amiable at the same Time. 

Since we cannot promise our selves constant Health, let us 
endeavour at such a Temper as may be our best Support in 
the Decay of it. Uranius has arrived at that Composure of 
Soul, and wrought himself up to such a Neglect of every thing 
with which the Generality of Mankind is enchanted, that 
nothing but acute Pains can give him Disturbance, and against 
those too he will tell his intimate Friends he has a Secret which 
gives him present Ease. Uranius is so thoroughly perswaded 
of another Life, and endeavours so sincerely to secure an 
Interest in it, that he looks upon Pain but as a quickening of 
his Pace to an Home, where he shall be better provided for 
than in his present Apartment. Instead of the melancholy 
Views which others are apt to give themselves, he will tell you 
that he has forgot he is mortal, nor will he think of himself as 
such. He thinks at the Time of his Birth he entered into an 
eternal Being; and the short Article of Death he will not allow 
an Interruption of Life, since that Moment is not of half the 
Duration as is his ordinary Sleep. Thus is his Being one uni¬ 
form and consistent Series of chearful Diversions and moder¬ 
ate Cares, without Fear or Hope of Futurity. Health to him 
is more than Pleasure to another Man, and Sickness less 
affecting to him than Indisposition is to others. 

I must confess, if one does not regard Life after this Manner, 
none but Ideots can pass it away with any tolerable Patience. 
Take a fine Lady who is of a delicate Frame, and you may 
observe from the Hour she rises a certain Weariness of all that 
passes about her. I know more than one who is much too 
nice to be quite alive. They are sick of such strange frightful 
People that they meet; one is so awkward and another so dis¬ 
agreeable, that it looks like a Penance to breathe the same Air 
with them. You see this is so very true, that a great Part of 
Ceremony and Good-breeding among the Ladies turns upon 
their Uneasiness; and I '11 undertake, if the How-d’ye Servants 
of our Women were to make a weekly Bill of Sickness, as the 
Parish Clerks do of Mortality, you would not find in an Account 
of seven Days, one in thirty that was not downright Sick or 
indisposed, or but a very little better than she was, and so forth. 



434 the spectator No . 143. Tuesday, Aug. 14, 17H 

It is certain, that to enjoy Life and Health as a constant 
Feast, we should not think Pleasure necessary; but, if possible, 
to arrive at an Equality of Mind. It is as mean to be over¬ 
joy'd upon Occasions of good Fortune, as to be dejected in 
Circumstances of Distress. Laughter in one Condition, is as 
unmanly as Weeping in the other. We should not form our 
Minds to expect Transport on every Occasion, but know how to 
make Enjoyment to be out of Pain. Ambition, Envy, vagrant 
Desire, or impertinent Mirth will take up our Minds, without we 
can possess our selves in that Sobriety of Heart which is above 
all Pleasures, and can be felt much better than described: But 
the ready Way, I believe, to the right Enjoyment of Life, is by 
a Prospect towards another to have but a very mean Opinion 
of it. A great Author of our Time has set this in an excellent 
Light, when with a philosophick Pity of human Life he spoke of 
it in his Theory of the Earth in the following Manner. 

For what is this Life but a Circulation of little mean Actions? 
We lie down and rise again, dress and undress, feed and wax 
hungry, work or play, and are weary, and then we lie down again, 
and the Circle returns. We spend the Day in Trifles, and when 
the Night comes we throiv our selves into the Bed of Folly, amongst 
Dreams and broken Thoughts and wild Imaginations. Our 
Reason lies asleep by us, and we are for the Time as arrant 
Brutes as those that sleep in the Stalls or in the Field. Are not 
the Capacities of Man higher than these? and ought not his Am¬ 
bition and Expectations to be greater? Let us be Adventurers for 
another World: 'Tis at least a fair and noble Chance; and there is 
nothing in this worth our Thoughts or our Passions. If we should 
he disappointed, we are still no worse than the rest of our Fellow- 
Mortals; and if we succeed in our Expectations, we are eternally 
happy. T 


No. 144. 

[STEELE.) Wednesday, August 15. 

. . . Noris quam elegans formarum spectator stem. —Ter, 

Beauty has been the Delight and Torment of the World ever 
since it began. The Philosophers have felt its Influence so 
sensibly, that almost every one of them has left us some Say¬ 
ing or other, which intimated that he too well knew the Power 
of it. One has told us, that a graceful Person is a more 
powerful Recommendation,-than the best Letter that can be 
writ in your Favour. Another desires the Possessor of it to 
consider it is a meer Gift of Nature, and not any Perfection of 



iVo. 144* Wednesday, Aug. THE SPECTATOR 435 

his own. A Third calls it a short liv’d Tyranny; a Fourth, a 
silent Fraud, because it imposes upon us without the help of 
Language; but, I think, Carneades spoke as much like a 
Philosopher as any of them, tho' more like a Lover, when he 
call’d it Royalty without Force. It is not indeed to be denied, 
that there is something irresistible in a Beauteous Form; the 
most Severe will not pretend, that they do not feel an im¬ 
mediate Praepossession in Favour of the Handsome. No one 
denies them the Privilege of being first heard, and being re¬ 
garded before others in Matters of ordinary Consideration. At 
the same time the Handsome should consider that it is a 
Possession, as it were, foreign to them. No one can give it 
himself, or preserve it when they have it. Yet so it is, that 
People can bear any Quality in the World than Beauty. It is 
the Consolation of all who are naturally too much affected 
with the Force of it, that a little Attention, if a Man can 
attend with Judgment, will cure them. Handsom People 
usually are so Phantastically pleas’d with themselves, that if 
they do not kill at first Sight, as the Phrase is, a second Inter¬ 
view disarms them of all their Power. But I shall make 
this Paper rather a Warning-piece to give Notice where the 
Danger is, than to propose Instructions how to avoid it when 
you have fallen in the way of it. Handsome Men shall be the 
Subjects of another Chapter, the Women shall take up the 
present Discourse. 

Amaryllis, who has been in Town but one Winter, is ex- 
treamly improved with the Arts of Good-Breeding, without 
leaving Nature. She has not lost the Native Simplicity of her 
Aspect, to substitute that Patience of being stared at, which is 
the usual Triumph and Distinction of a Town Lady. In 
Publick Assemblies you meet her careless Eye diverting it self 
with the Objects around her, insensible that she her self is one 
of the brightest in the Place. 

Dulcissa is quite of another Make, she is almost a Beauty 
by Nature, but more than one by Art. If it were possible for 
her to let her Fan or any Limb about her rest, she would do 
some part of the Execution she meditates; but tho’ she designs 
her self a Prey, she will not stay to be taken. No Painter 
can give you Words for the different Aspects of Dulcissa in 
half a Moment, wherever she appears: So little does she accom¬ 
plish what she takes so much Pains for, to be gay and careless. 

Merab is attended with all the Charms of Woman and 
Accomplishments of Man. It is not to be doubted but she has 
a great deal of Wit, if she were not such a Beauty; and she 
would have more Beauty had she not so much Wit. Affecta¬ 
tion prevents her Excellencies from walking together. If she 



436 THE SPECTATOR No. 144. Wednesday, ^5, 

has a mind to speak such a Thing, it must be done with such 
an Air of her Body; and if she has an Inclination to look very 
careless, there is such a smart Thing to be said at the same time, 
that the design of being admired destroys it self. Thus the 
Unhappy Merab, tho’ a Wit and Beauty, is allowed to be 
neither, because she will always be both. 

Albacinda has the Skill as well as Power of pleasing. Her 
Form is majestick, but her Aspect humble. All good Men 
should beware of the Destroyer. She will speak to you like 
your Sister, till she has you sure; but is the most vexatious of 
Tyrants when you are so. Her Familiarity of Behaviour, her 
indifferent Questions, and general Conversation, make the silly 
part of her Votaries full of hopes, while the wise fly from her 
Power. She well knows she is too Beautiful and too Witty to 
be indifferent to any who converse with her, and therefore 
knows she docs not lessen her self by Familiarity, but gains 
occasions of Admiration, by seeming Ignorance of her Per¬ 
fections. 

Eudosia adds to the height of her Stature a Nobility of 
Spirit which .still distinguishes her above the rest of her Sex. 
Beauty in others is lovely, in others agreeable, in others 
attractive; but in Eudosia it is commanding: Love towards 
Eudosia is a Sentiment like the Love of Glory. The Lovers of 
other Women are soften'd into Fondness, the Admirers of 
Eudosia exalted into Ambition. 

Eucratia presents her self to the Imagination with a more 
kindly Pleasure, and as she is Woman, her Praise is wholly 
Feminine, If we were to form an Image of Dignity in a Man, 
we should give him Wisdom and Valour, as being essential to 
the Character of Manhood. In like manner if you describe 
a right Woman in a laudable Sense, she should have gentle 
Softness, tender Fear, and all those parts of Life, which dis¬ 
tinguish her from the other Sex; with some Subordination to 
it, but such an Inferiority that makes her still more lovely. 
Eucratia is that Creature, she is all over Woman, Kindness is 
all her Art, and Beauty all her Arms. Her Look, her Voice, 
her Gesture, and whole Behaviour is truly Feminine. A Good¬ 
ness mixed with Fear, gives a Tincture to all her Behaviour. 
It would be Savage to ofiend her, and Cruelty to use Art to 
gain her. Others are Beautiful, but Eucratia thou art Beauty! 

Omnamante is made for Deceit, she has an Aspect as Inno¬ 
cent as the famed Lucrece, but a Mind as Wild as the more 
famed Cleopatra. Her face speaks a Vestal, but her Heart a 
Messalina. Who that beheld'Owuawaw/e's negligent unobserv¬ 
ing Air, would believe that she hid under that regardless 
Manner the witty Prostitute, the rapacious Wench, the prodigal 



No. 144 - Wednesday, Aug. 1^, 1^11 THE SPECTATOR 437 

Curtizan ? She can, when she pleases, adorn those Eyes with 
Tears like an Infant that is chid: She can cast down that pretty 
Face in Confusion, while you rage with Jealousie, and storm 
at her Perfidiousness; she can wipe her Eyes, tremble and look 
frighted, till you think your self a Brute for your Rage, own 
your self an Offender, beg Pardon, and make her new Presents. 

But I go too far in reporting only the Dangers in beholding 
the Beauteous, which I design for the Instruction of the Fair* 
as well as their Beholders; and shall end this Rhapsody with 
mentioning what I thought was well enough said of an Antient 
Sage to a Beautiful Youth, whom he saw admiring his own 
Figure in Brass. What, said the Philosopher, could that 
Image of yours say for it self if it could speak ? It might say, 
(answer'd the Youth) That it is very Beautiful. And are not 
you asham'd, replyed the Cynick, to value your self upon that 
only of which a Piece of Brass is capable? T 


No. 145. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, August 16. 

Stultitiam patiuntur opes . . . Hor. 

If the following Enormities are not amended upon the first 
Mention, I desire farther Notice from my Correspondents. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I am obliged to you for your Discourse the other Day upon 
frivolous Disputants, who with great Warmth, and Enumera¬ 
tion of many Circumstances and Authorities, undertake to 
prove Matters which no Body living denies. You cannot 
employ your self more usefully than in adjusting the Laws of 
Disputation in Coffee-houses and accidental Companies, as 
well as in more formal Debates. Among many other things 
which your own Experience must suggest to you, it will be very 
obliging if you please to take Notice of Wagerers. I will not 
here repeat what Hudibras says of such Disputants, which is so 
true, that it is almost Proverbial; but shall only acquaint you 
with a Set of young Fellows of the Inns of Court, whose Fathers 
have provided for them so plentifully, that they need not be 
very anxious to get Law into their Heads for the Service of their 
Country at the Bar; but are of those who are sent (as the Phrase 
of Parents is) to the Temple to know how to keep their own. 
One of these Gentlemen is very loud and captious at a Coffee¬ 
house which I frequent, and being in his Nature troubled with 
an Humour of Contradiction, though withal excessive Ignorant, 



438 THE SPECTATOR iVo. 145. Thursday, Aug. 16, lyii 

he has found a way to indulge this Temper, go on in Idleness 
and Ignorance, and yet still give himself the Air of a very 
learned and knowing Man by the Strength of his Pocket. The 
Misfortune of the thing is, I have, as it happens sometimes, a 
greater Stock of Learning than of Money. The Gentleman I am 
speaking of, takes Advantage of the Narrowness of my Cir¬ 
cumstances in such a manner, that he has read all that I can 
pretend to, and runs me down with such a positive Air, and 
with such powerful Arguments, that from a very Learned 
Person I am thought a mere Pretender. Not long ago 1 
was relating that I had read such a Passage in Tacitus, up 
starts my young Gentleman in a full Company, and pulling out 
his Purse offered to lay me ten Guineas, to be staked immedi¬ 
ately in that Gentleman's Hands, (pointing to one smoaking 
at another Table) that I was utterly mistaken. I was Dumb 
for want of ten Guineas; he went on unmercifully to triumph 
over my Ignorance how to take him up, and told the whole 
Room he had read Tacitus twenty times over, and such a re¬ 
markable Incident as that could not escape him. He has at 
this time three considerable Wagers depending between him 
and some of his Companions, who are rich enough to hold an 
Argument with him. He has five Guineas upon Questions in 
Geography, two that the Isle of Wight is a Peninsula, and three 
Guineas to one that the World is round. We have a Gentle¬ 
man comes to our Coffee-house who deals mightily in Antique 
Scandal; my Disputant has laid him twenty Pieces upon a 
Point of History, to wit, that Caesar never lay with Cato’s 
Sister, as is scandalously reported by some People. 

There are several of this sort of Fellows in Town, who 
Wager themselves into Statesmen, Historians, Geographers, 
Mathematicians, and every other Art, when the Persons with 
whom they talk have not Wealth equal to their Learning. I 
beg of you to prevent, in these Youngsters, this Compendious 
Way to Wisdom, which costs other People so much Time and 
Pains, and you will oblige 

Your Humble Servant.’ 

Coffee-House near the 

’Mr. Spectator, Temple, Aug. 12, 1711. 

Here's a Young Gentleman that sings Opera-Tunes, or 
Whistles in a full House. Pray let him know that he has no 
Right to act here as if he were in an empty Room. Be pleased 
to divide the Spaces of a Publick Room, and certifie Whistlers, 
Singers and Common Orators] that are heard further than their 
Portion of the Room comes to, that the Law is open, and that 
there is an Equity which will relieve us from such as interrupt 



No. 145 - Thursday, Aug. i6, ijii THE SPECTATOR 43g 

us in our Lawful Discourse, as much as against such as stop us 
on the Road. I take these Persons, Mr. Spectator, to be such 
Trespassers as the Officer in your Stage Coach, and am of the 
same Sentiment with Counccllor Ephraim. It is true the 
Young Man is rich, and, as the Vulgar say, needs not care for 
any Body; but sure that is no Authority for him to go whistle 
where he pleases. 

I am, Sir, 

Your Most Humble. Servant. 

P.S. I have Chambers in the Temple, and here are Students 
that learn upon the Hautboy; pray desire the Benchers, that 
all Lawyers who are IToficients in Wind-Musick may lodge to 
the Thames.’ 

'Mr. Spectator, 

We are a Company of Young Women who pass our Time very 
much together, and obliged by the Mercenary Humour of the 
Men to be as Mercenarily inclined as they arc. There visits 
among us an old Batchelor whom each of us had a Mind to. 
The Fellow is rich, and knows he may have any of us, therefore 
is particular to none, but excessively ill-bred. His Pleasantry 
consists in Romping, he snatches Kisses by surprise, put his 
Hand in our Necks, tears our Fans, robs us of Ribbons, forces 
Letters out of our Hands, looks into any of our Papers, and a 
thousand other Rudenesses. Now what I '11 desire of you is 
to acquaint him, by Printing this, that if he does not marry one 
of us very suddenly, we have all agreed, the next time he 
pretends to be merry, to affront him, and use him like a Clown 
as he is. In the Name of the Sisterhood I take my leave of 
you, and am, as they all are. 

Your Constant Reader, 

and Well-wisher.’ 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I and several others of your Female Readers, have con¬ 
formed our selves to your Rules, even to our very Dress. 
There is not one of us but has reduced our outward Petticoat 
to its ancient Sizable Circumference, tho’ indeed we retain 
still a Quilted one underneath, which makes us not altogether 
unconformable to the Fashion; but 'tis on Condition Mr. 
Spectator extends not his Censure so far. But we find you 
Men secretly approve our Practice, by imitating our Pira- 
midical Form. The Skirt of your fashionable Coats forms as 
large a Circumference as our Petticoats; as these are set out 
with Whalebone, so are those with Wire, to encrease and sus¬ 
tain the Bunch of Fold that hangs down on each side; and the 

I—p 



440 THE SPECTATOR iVo. 145. Thursday, Aug. 16, 1711 

Hat, I perceive, is decreased in just Proportion to our Head¬ 
dresses. We make a regular Figure, but I defy your Mathe- 
maticks to give Name to the Form you appear in. Youi 
Architecture is mere Gothick, and betrays a worse Genius than 
ours; therefore if you are partial to your own Sex, I shall be 
less than I am now 

T Your Humble Servant.* 


No. 146. 

[STEELE.] Friday, August 17. 

Nemo vir magnus sine aliquo afflatu divino unquani full .— Tull. 

We know the highest Pleasure our Minds are capable of enjoy¬ 
ing with Composure, when we read sublime Thoughts com¬ 
municated to us by Men of great Genius and Eloquence. 
Such is the Entertainment we meet with in the philosophick 
Parts of Cicero's Waitings. Truth and good Sense have there 
so charming a Dress, that they could hardly be more agreeably 
represented with the Addition of poetical Fiction and the 
Power of Numbers. This ancient Author, and a modem one, 
have fallen into my Hands within these few Days; and the 
Impressions they have left upon me, have at the present quite 
spoiled me for a merry Fellow. The Modern is that admirable 
Writer, the Author of the Theory of the Earth. The Subjects 
with which I have lately been entertained in them both bear a 
near Affinity; they are upon Enquiries into Hereafter, and 
the Thoughts of the latter seem to me to be raised above those 
of the former in proportion to his Advantages of Scripture and 
Revelation. If I had a Mind to it, I could not at present talk 
of any thing else; therefore I shall translate a Passage in the 
one, and transcribe a Paragraph out of the other, for the 
Speculation of this Day. Cicero tells us, that Plato reports 
Socrates, upon receiving his Sentence, to have spoken to his 
Judges in the following Manner. 

‘I have great Hopes, oh my Judges, that it is infinitely to 
my Advantage that I am sent to Death: For it must of Neces¬ 
sity be, that one of these two things must be the Consequence. 
Death must take away all these Senses, or convey me to 
another Life. If all Sense is to be taken away, and Death is 
no more than that profound Sleep without Dreams, in which 
we are sometimes buried, oh -Heavens I how desirable is it to 
die ? how many Days do we know in Life preferable to such a 
State ? But if it be true that Death is but a Passage to Places 



No. 146. Friday, Aug. 16, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 44J 

which they who lived before us do now inhabit, how much still 
happier is it to go from those who call themselves Judges, to 
appear before those that really are such; before Minos, Rhada- 
manthus, Aeacus and Triptolemus, and to meet Men who have 
lived with Justice and Truth ? Is this, do you think, no happy 
Journey? Do you think it nothing to speak with Orpheus, 
Musaeus, Homer and Hesiod} I would, indeed, suJffer many 
Deaths to enjoy these Things. With what particular Delight 
should I talk to Palamedes, Ajax, and others, who like me have 
suffered by the Iniquity of their Judges. I should examine the 
Wisdom of that great Prince, who carried such mighty Forces 
against Troy\ and argue with Ulysses and Sisyphus, upon diffi¬ 
cult Points, as I have in Conversation here, without being in 
Danger of being condemned. But let not those among you 
who have pronounced me an innocent Man be afraid of Death. 
No Harm can arrive at a good Man whether dead or living: his 
Affairs are always under the Direction of the Gods; nor will I 
believe the Fate which is allotted to me my self this Day to 
have arrived by Chance; nor have I ought to say either against 
my Judges or Accusers, but that they thought they did me an 
Injury.—But I detain you too long, it is Time that I retire to 
Death, and you to your Affairs of Life; which of us has the 
Better is known to the Gods, but to no mortal Man.' 

The divine Socrates is here represented in a Figure worthy 
his great Wisdom and Philosophy, worthy the greatest mere 
Man that ever breath'd. But the modern Discourse is written 
upon a Subject no less than the Dissolution of Nature it self. 
Oh how glorious is the old Age of that great Man, who has spent 
his Time in such Contemplations as has made this Being, what 
only it should be, an Education for Heaven 1 He has, accord¬ 
ing to the Lights of Reason and Revelation, which seem'd to 
him clearest, traced the Steps of Omnipotence: He has, with a 
Celestial Ambition, as far as it is consistent with Humility and 
Devotion, examined the Ways of Providence, from the Creation 
to the Dissolution of the visible World. How pleasing must 
have been the Speculation, to observe Nature and Providence 
move together, the physical and moral World march the same 
Pace: To observe Paradice and eternal Spring the Seat of 
Innocence, troubled Seasons and angry Skies the Portion of 
Wickedness and Vice. When this admirable Author has re¬ 
viewed all that has passed, or is to come, which relates to the 
habitable World, and run through the whole Fate of it, how 
could a Guardian Angel, that had attended it through all its 
Courses or Changes, speak more emphatically at the End of his 
Charge than does our Author, when he makes, as it were, a 



44^ THE SPECTATOR No. 146. Friday, Aug. 17, 1711 

Funeral Oration over this Globe, looking to the Point where it 
once stood ? 

' Let us only, if you please, to take Leave of this Subject, 
reflect upon this Occasion on the Vanity and transient Glory 
of this habitable World. How by the Force of one Element 
breaking loose upon the rest, all the Vanities of Nature, all the 
Works of Art, all the Labours of Men, are reduced to Nothing. 
All that we admired and adored before as great and magnifl- 
cent, is obliterated or vani.shed; and another Form and Face 
of things, plain, simple, and every where the same, overspreads 
the whole Earth. Where are now the great Empires of the 
World, and their great imperial Cities ? Their Pillars, Trophies, 
and Monuments of Glory? Shew me where they stood, read 
the Inscription, tell me the Victor's Name. What Remains, 
what Impressions, what Difference, or Distinction, do you see 
in this Mass of Fire? Rome it self, eternal Rome, the great 
City, the Empress of the World, whose Domination and Super¬ 
stition ancient and modern, make a great Part of the History 
of this Earth; what is become of her now? She laid her 
Foundations deep, and her Palaces were strong and sumptuous; 
She glorified her self, and lived deliciously, and said in her Heart 
I sit a Queen, and shall see no Sorrow: But her Hour is come, 
she is wiped away from the Face of the Earth, and buried in 
everlasting Oblivion. But it is not Cities only, and Works of 
Men's Hands, but the everlasting Hills, the Mountains and 
Rocks of the Earth are melted as Wax before the Sun, and 
their Place is no where found. Here stood the A ^pes, the Load 
of the Earth, that covered many Countries, and reached their 
Arms from the Ocean to the Black Sea; this huge Mass of Stone 
is softned and dissolved as a tender Cloud into Rain. Here 
stood the African Mountains, and Atlas with his Top above the 
Clouds; there was frozen Caucasus, and Taurus, and Imaus, and 
the Mountains of Asia; and yonder towards the North stood 
the Riphaean Hills, cloath’d in Ice and Snow. All these are 
\'anished, dropt away as the Snow upon their Heads. Great 
and marvellous are thy Works, just and true are thy Ways, thou 
King of Saints! Hallelujah.' T 



ATo. 147 - Saturday, Aug. 1^, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 443 


No. 147, 

[STEELE.] Saturday, August 18. 

Pronuvtiatio est vocis vultus 6* gestus moderatio cum venustate. —Tull. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

The well Reading of the Common Prayer is of so great Im¬ 
portance, and so much neglected, that I take the Liberty to 
offer to your Consideration some Particulars on that Subject; 
And what more worthy your Observation than this? A thing 
so Publick, and of so high Consequence. It is indeed wonder¬ 
ful. that the frequent Exercise of it should not make the Per¬ 
formers of that Duty more expert in it. This Inability, as I 
conceive, proceeds from the little Care that is taken of their 
Reading, while Boys and at School, where when they are got 
into Latin, they are look'd upon as above English, the Reading 
of which is wholly neglected, or at least read to very little pur¬ 
pose, without any due Observations made to them of the 
proper Accent and manner of Reading; by this means they have 
acquir'd such ill Habits as won't easily be remov'd. The only 
way that I know of to remedy this, is to propose some Person 
of great Ability that way as a Pattern for them; Example being 
most effectual to convince the Learned, as well as instruct the 
Ignorant. 

You must know. Sir, I 've been a constant Frequenter of the 
Service of the Church of England for above these four Years 
last past, and 'till Sunday was sovennight never discover'd, to 
so great a Degree, the Excellency of the Common Prayer. 
When being at St. Jameses Garlick-hill Church, I heard the 
Service read so distinctly, so emphatically, and so fervently, 
that it was next to an Impossibility to be unattentive. My 
Eyes and my Thoughts could not wander as usual, but were 
confin'd to my Prayers: I then consider’d I address'd my self 
to the Almighty, and not to a beautiful Face. And when I 
’•eflected on my former Performances of that Duty, I found I 
had run it over as a matter of Form, in corapari.son to the 
Manner in which I then discharged it. My Mind was really 
affected, and fervent Wishes accompanied my Words. The 
Confession was read with such a resign’d Humility, the Absolu¬ 
tion with such a comfortable Authority, the Thanksgivings with 
such a Religious Joy, as made me feel those Afiections of the 
Mind in a manner I never did before. To remedy therefore 
the Grievance above complain’d of, I humbly propose, that 
this excellent Reader, upon the next and every Annual As¬ 
sembly of the Clergy of Sion College, and all other Conventions, 
should read Prayers before them. For then those, that are. 



444 the spectator No. 147. Saturday, Aug. 18, 1711 

afraid of stretching their Mouths, and spoiling their soft Voice, 
will learn to Read with Clearness, Loudness, and Strength. 
Others that affect a rakish negligent Air by folding their Arms, 
and lolling on their Book, will be taught a decent Behaviour, 
and comely Erection of Body. Those that Read so fast as if 
impatient of their Work, may learn to speak Deliberately. 
There is another sort of Persons whom I call Pindarick Readers, 
as being confin’d to no set measure; these Pronounce five or 
six Words with great Deliberation, and the five or six Subse¬ 
quent ones with as great Celerity: The first part of a Sentence 
with a very exalted Voice, and the latter part with a Sub¬ 
missive one: Sometime again with one sort of a Tone, and 
immediately after with a very different one. These Gentle¬ 
men will learn of my admired Reader an Evenness of Voice and 
Delivery. And all who are Innocent of these Affectations, but 
Read with such an Indifferency as if they did not understand 
the Language, may then be inform’d of the Art of Reading 
movingly and fervently, how to place the Emphasis, and give 
the proper Accent to each Word, and how to vary the Voice 
according to the Nature of the Sentence. There is certainly 
a very great Difference between the Reading a Prayer and a 
Gazette, which I beg of you to inform a Sett of Readers, who 
affect, forsooth, a certain Gentleman-like Familiarity of Tone, 
and mend the Language as they go on, crying instead of 
Pardoneth and Absolveth, Pardons and Absolves. These are 
often pretty Classical Scholars, and would think it an un¬ 
pardonable Sin to read Virgil or Martial with so little Taste as 
they do Divine Service. 

This Indifierency seems to me to arise from the Endeavour 
of avoiding the Imputation of Cant, and the false Notion of it. 
It will be proper therefore to trace the Original and Significa¬ 
tion of this Word. Cant, is by some People, derived from one 
Andrew Cant who, they say, was a Presbyterian Minister in 
some illiterate part of Scotland, who by Exercise and Use had 
obtained the Faculty, alias Gift, of Talking in the Pulpit in 
such a Dialect, that it's said he was understood by none but 
his own Congregation, and by not all of them. Since Mas. 
Cant’s time, it has been understood in a larger Sense, and signi¬ 
fies all sudden Exclamations, Whinings, unusual Tones, and 
in fine all Praying and Preaching like the unlearned of the 
Presbyterians. But I hope a proper Elevation of Voice, a due 
Emphasis and Accent, are not to come within this description: 
So that our Readers may still be as unlike the Presbyterians 
as they please. The Dissenters (I mean such as I have heard) 
do indeed elevate their Voices, but it is with sudden Jumps 
from the lower to the higher part of them; and that with so 



No. 147. Saturday, Aug. 18, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 445 

little Sense or Skill, that their Elevation and Cadence is Bawl¬ 
ing and Muttering. They make use of an Emphasis, but so 
improperly, that it is often placed on some very insignificant 
Particle, as upon if, or and. Now if these Improprieties have 
so great an Effect on the People, as we see they have, how 
great an Influence would the Service of our Church, contain¬ 
ing the best Prayers that ever were Compos’d, and that in 
Terms most affecting, most humble, and most expressive of 
our Wants and Dependance on the Object of our Worship, 
dispos'd in most proper Order, and void of all Confusion; what 
Influence, I say, would these Prayers have, were they delivered 
with a due Emphasis, an apposite Rising and Variation of 
Voice, the Sentence concluded with a gentle Cadence, and, in 
a Word, with such an Accent and turn of Speech as is peculiar 
to Prayer? 

As the matter of Worship is now managed in Dissenting 
Congregations, you find insignificant Words and Phrases 
raised by a hvely Vehemence; in our own Churches, the most 
exalted Sense depreciated, by a dispassionate Indolence. I 

remember to have heard Dr. S - e say in his Pulpit, of the 

Common Prayer, that, at least, it was as perfect as any thing 
of Human Institution: If the Gentlemen who err in this kind 
would please to recollect the many Pleasantries they have read 
upon those who recite good Things with an ill Grace, they would 
go on to think that what in that case is only Ridiculous, in 
themselves is Impious. But leaving this to their own .Re¬ 
flections, I shall conclude this Trouble with what Caesar said 
upon the Irregularity of Tone in one who read before him, Do 
you read or sing? If you sing, you sing very ill. 

T Your Most Humble Servant.* 


No. 148. 

[STEELE.] Monday, August 20. 

. . . Exempta juvat spinis de piuribus una. —Hor. 

My Correspondents assure me, that the Enormities which they 
lately complained of, and I published an Account of, are so 
far from being amended, that new Evils arise every Day to 
interrupt their Conversation, in Contempt of my Reproofs. 
My Friend who writes from the Coffee-house near the Temple, 
informs me, that the Gentleman who constantly sings a 
Voluntary in spite of the whole Company, was more musical 
than ordinary after reading my Paper; and has not been con¬ 
tented with that, but has danced up to the Glass in the Middle 



446 THE SPECTATOR No. 148. Monday, Aug. 20, 1711 

of the Room, and practised Minuet-steps to his own Humming. 
The incorrigible Creature has gone still further, and in the 
07)en Coffee-house, with one Hand extended as leading a Lady 
in it, he has danced both French and Country-Uances, and 
admonished his supposed Partner by Smiles and Nods to hold 
up her Head and fall back, according to the respective Facings 
and Evolutions of the Dance. Before this Gentleman began 
this his Exercise, he was pleased to clear his Throat by cough¬ 
ing and spitting a full half Hour; and as soon as he struck up, 
he appealed to an Attorney’s Clerk in the Room, whether he 
hit as he ought Since you from Death have saved me? and then 
ask’d the young Fellow, jK)inting to a Chancery-Bill under his 
Arm, whether that was an Opera-Score he carried or not? 
Without staying for an Answer he fell into the l^xercise above- 
mentioned, and practised his Airs to the full House who were 
turned upon him, without the least Shame or Rei)entance for 
his former Transgressions. 

I am to the last Degree at a Loss what to do with this young 
Fellow, except 1 declare hhin an Outlaw, and pronounce it 
penal for any one to sjieak to him in the said House which he 
frecpicnts, and direct that he be obliged to drink his Tea and 
Coliee without Sugar, and not receive from any Person what¬ 
soever any thing above mere Necessaries. 

• As we in England are a sober People, and generally inclined 
rather to a certain Bashfulness of Behaviour in Publick, it i? 
amazing whence some Fellows come whom one meets with in 
this Town; They do not all seem to be the Growth of our 
Island; the pert, the talkative, all such as have no Sense of the 
Observation of others, are certainly of foreign Extraction. As 
for my Part, I am as much surpriz’d when I sec a talkative 
Englishman, as I shcjuld be to see the Indian Pine growing on 
one of our quick-set Fledges: where these Creatures get Sun 
enough, to make them such lively Animals and dull Men, is 
above my Philosophy. 

There are another Kind of Impertinents which a Man is 
perplexed with in mixed Company, and those are your loud 
Speakers: These treat Mankind as if we were all deaf; they do 
not express but declare themselves. Many of these are guilty 
of this Outrage out of Vanity, because they think all they say 
is well; or that they have their own Persons in such Veneration, 
that they believe nothing which concerns them can be insignifi¬ 
cant to any Body else. For these People’s Sake, I have often 
lamented that we cannot close our Ears with as much Ease as 
we can our Eyes: It is very uneasy that we must necessarily be 
under Persecution. Next to these Bawlers, is a troublesome 
Creature who comes with the Air of your Friend and your 



No. 148. Monday, Aug. 20, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 447 

Intimate, and that is your Whisperer. There is one of them 
at a Coffee-house which I my self frequent, who observing me 
to be a Man pretty well made for Secrets, gets by me, and with 
a Whisper tells me things which all the Town knows. It is no 
very hard Matter to guess at the Source of this Impertinence, 
which is nothing else but a Method or Meehanick Art of being 
wise. You never see any freqinmt in it, whom you can suppose 
to have any thing in the World to tlo. These Persons are 
worse than Bnwlers, as much as a secret Enemy is more 
dangerous than a declared one. I wish this my Coffee-house 
Friend would take this for an Intimation, that I have not 
heard one Word he has told me for these several Years; whereas 
he now thinks me the mo.st trusty Repository of his Secrets. 
The Whisperers have a pleasant Way of ending the close 
(-.onversation, with saying aloud. Do not you think so? Then 
whisper again, and then aloud, hut you know that Person’, then 
whisper again. The thing wcmld be well enough, if they 
whispered to keep the Folly of what they say among Friends, 
but alas they do it to preserve the Importance of their 
Thoughts. I am sure I could name you more than one Per¬ 
son whom no Man living ever heard talk upon any Subject in 
Nature, or ever saw in his whole Life with a Book in his Hand, 
that I know not how can whisper something like Knowledge 
of wdiat has and docs pass in the World; which you would 
think he learned from some familiar Spirit that did not think 
him worthy to receive the whole Story. But in Truth 
Whisperers deal only in half Accounts of what they entertain 
you with, A great Help to their Discourse is, ‘That the Town 
says, and People begin to talk very freely, and they had it from 
Persons too considerable to be named, what they will tell you 
when things are riper.' My Friend has winked upon me any 
Day since I came to Town last, and has communicated to me 
as a Secret, that he designed in a very short Time to tell me a 
Secret: but I shall know what he means, he now assures me, in 
less than a Fortnight's Time. 

But I must not omit the dearer Part of Mankind, I mean the 
Ladies, to take up a whole Paper upon Grievances which con¬ 
cern the Men only; but shall humbly propose, that we change 
Fools for an Experiment only. A certain Set of Ladies com¬ 
plain they are frequently perplexed with a Visitant who affects 
to be wiser than they are; which Character he hopes to pre¬ 
serve by an obstinate Gravity, and great Guard against dis¬ 
covering his Opinion upon any Occasion whatsoever. A 
painful Silence has hitherto gained him no further Advantage, 
than that as he might, if he had behaved himself with Freedom, 
been excepted against, but as to this and that Particular, he 

I—*p 164 



448 THE SPECTATOR No. 148. Monday, Aug. 20, 1711 

now offends in the whole. To relieve these Ladies, my good 
Friends and Correspondents, I shall exchange my dancing Out¬ 
law for their dumb Visitant, and assign the silent Gentleman 
all the Haunts of the Dancer: In order to which I have sent 
them by the Penny-Post the following Letters for their Conduct 
in their new Conversations. 

‘ Sir, 

I have, you may be sure, heard of your Irregularities without 
regard to my Observations upon you; but shall not treat you 
with so much Rigour as you deserve. If you will give your self 
the Trouble to repair to the Place mentioned in the Postscript 
to this Letter at Seven this Evening, you will be conducted 
into a spacious Room well lighted, where there are Ladies and 
Musick, You will see a young Lady laughing next the Window 
to the Street; you may take her out, for she loves you as well 
as she does any Man, tho’ she never saw you before. She never 
thought in her Life any more than your self. She will not be 
surprized when you accost her, nor concerned when you leave 
her. Hasten from a Place where you are laughed at, to one 
where you will be admired. You are of no Consequence, 
therefore go where you will be welcome for being so. 

Your most Humble Servant.' 

•Sir, 

The Ladies whom you visit, think a wise Man the most 
impertinent Creature living, therefore you cannot be offended 
that they are displeased with you. Why will you take Pains 
to appear wise, where you would not be the more esteemed for 
being really so ? Come to us; forget the Gigglers; and let your 
Inclination go along with you whether you speak or are silent; 
and let all such Women as are in a Clan or Sisterhood, go 
their own way; there is no Room for you in that Company who 
are of the common Taste of the Sex. 

For Women born to be controil'd 
Stoop to the forward and the bold; 

Affect the haughty and the proud. 

The gay, the jrolick, and the loud. 


T 



No. 149. Tuesday, Aug. 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 449 


No. 149. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, August 21. 

Cui in manu sit, quern esse dementem velit. 

Quern sapere, quern sanat i, quern in morbum injici, 

Quern contra amari, quern accersiri, quern expeti. 

—Caecil. apud Tull. 

The following Letter and my Answer shall take up the present 
Speculation. 

‘ Mr . Spectator, 

I am the young Widow of a Country Gentleman, who has left 
me entire Mistress of a large Fortune, which he agreed to as 
an Equivalent for the Difference in our Years. In these Cir¬ 
cumstances it is not extraordinary to have a Crowd of Ad¬ 
mirers; which I have abridg’d in my own Thoughts, and reduc’d 
to a Couple of Candidates only, both young and neither of ’em 
disagreeable in their Persons; according to the common Way of 
computing, in one the Estate more than deserves my Fortune, 
in the other my Fortune more than deserves the Estate. When 
I consider the first, I own I am so far a Woman I cannot avoid 
being delighted with the Thoughts of living great; but then he 
seems to receive such a Degree of Courage from the Knowledge 
of what he has, he looks as if he was going to confer an Obliga¬ 
tion on me; and the Readiness he accosts me with, makes me 
jealous I am only hearing a Repetition of the same things he has 
said to a hundred Women before. When I consider the other, I 
see my self approach’d with so much Modesty and Respect, and 
such a Doubt of himself, as betrays methinks an Affection 
within, and a Belief at the same Time that he himself would be 
the only Gainer by my Consent. What an unexceptionable 
Husband could I make out of both! But since that’s impos¬ 
sible, I beg to be concluded by your Opinion; it is absolutely 
in your Power to dispose of 

Your most obedient Servant, 

Sylvia.' 

Madam, 

You do me great Honour in your Application to me on this 
important Occasion; I shall therefore talk to you with the 
Tenderness of a Father, in Gratitude for your giving me the 
Authority of one. You do not seem to make any great 
Distinction between these Gentlemen as to their Persons; the 
whole Question lies upon their Circumstances and Behaviour: 
If the one is less respectful because he is rich, and the other 
more obsequious because he is not so, they are in that Point 



450 THE SPECTATOR No. 149. Tuesday, Aug. 21, 1711 

moved by the same Principle, the Consideration of Fortune, 
and you must place them in each other’s Circumstances before 
you can judge of their Inclination. To avoid Confusion in 
discussing this Point, I will call the richer Man Strephon and 
the other Florio. If you believe Florio with Strephon’s Estate 
would behave himself as he does now, Florio is certainly your 
Man; but if you think Strephon, were he in Florio’s Condition, 
would be as obsequious as Florio is now, you ought for your 
own sake to choose Strephon] for where the Men are equal, 
there is no Doubt Riches ought to be a Reason for Preference. 
After this Manner, my dear Child, I would have you abstract 
them from their Circumstances; for you are to take it for 
granted, that he who is very humble only because he is poor, 
is the very same Man in Nature with him who is haughty 
because he is rich. 

When you have gone thus far, as to consider the Figure 
they make towards you; you will please, my Dear, next to 
consider the Appearance you make towards them. If they are 
Men of Discerning, they can observe the Motives of your 
Heart; and Florio can .see when he is disregarded only upon 
Account of Fortune, which makes you to him a mercenary 
Creature; and you are still the same thing to Strephon, in taking 
him for his Wealth only: You are therefore to consider whether 
you had rather oblige, than receive an Obligation. 

The Marriage-Life is always an insipid, a vexatious, or an 
happy Condition. The first is, when two People of no Genius 
or Taste for themselves meet together, upon such a Settlement 
as has been thought reasonable by Parents and Conveyancers 
from an exact Valuation of the Land and Cash of both Parties: 
In this Case the young Lady’s Person is no more regarded, than 
the House and Improvements in Purchase of an Estate; but 
she goes with her Fortune, rather than her Fortune with her. 
These make up the Crowd or Vulgar of the rich, and fill up the 
Lumber of humane Race, without Beneficence towards those 
below them, or Respect towards those above them; and lead a 
despicaVile, independent and useless Life, without Sense of the 
Laws of Kindness, Good-nature, mutual Offices, and the elegant 
Satisfactions which flow from Reason and Virtue. 

The vexatious Life arises from a Conjunction of two People 
of quick Taste and Resentment, put together for Reasons well 
known to their Friends, in which especial Care is taken to avoid 
(what they think the chief of Evils) Poverty, and ensure to 
them Riches, with every Evil besides. These good People live 
in a constant Constraint be'fore Company, and too great 
Familiarity alone; when they are within Observation they fret 
at each others Carriage and Behaviour, when alone they revile 



No. 149. Tuesday, Aug. 21, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 451 

each others Person and Conduct; In Company they are in a 
Purgatory, when only together in an Hell. 

The happy Marriage is, where two Persons meet and volun¬ 
tarily make Choice of each other, without principally regarding 
or neglecting the Circumstance of Fortune or Beauty. These 
may still love in sy)ite of Adversity or Sickness: The former we 
may in some Measure defend our selves from, the other is the 
Portion of our very Make. When you have a true Notion of 
this sort of Passion, your humour of living great will vanish 
out of your Imagination, and you will find Love has nothing 
to do with State. Solitude, with the Person beloved, has a 
Pleasure, even in a Woman’s Mind, beyond Show or Pomp. 
You are therefore to consider which of your Lovers will like 
you best undress'd, which will bear with you most when out of 
Humour; and your Way to this is to ask of your self, which of 
them you value most for his own Sake? and by that judge 
which gives the greater Instances of his valuing you for your 
self only. 

After you have expressed some Sense of the humble Approach 
of Florio, and a little Disdain at Strephon's Assurance in his 
Address, you cry out. What an unexceptionable Husband could 
J make out of both! It would therefore methinks be a good Way 
to determine your self: Take him in whom what you like is 
not transferable to another; for if you chuse otherwise, there 
is no Hopes your Husband will ever have what you liked in 
his Rival; but intrinsick Qualities in one Man may very 
probably purchase every thing that is adv(*ntitioiis in another. 
In plainer Terms: he whom you take for his personal Perfec¬ 
tions will sooner arrive at the Gifts of Fortune, than he whom 
you take for the Sake of his Fortune attain to personal Per¬ 
fections. If Strephon is not as accomplish’d and agreeable as 
Florio, Marriage to you will never make him so; but Marriage 
to you may make Florio as rich as Strephon : Therefore to make 
a sure Purchase, employ Fortune upon Certainties, but do not 
sacrifice Certainties to Fortune. 

I am, 

You most obedient 

T Humble Servant. 



452 THE SPECTATOR No. 150. Wednesday, Aug. 22,1711 
No. 150. 

[BUDGELL.] Wednesday, August 22. 

Nil habet in felix paupertas durius in se, 

Quam quod ridiculos homines facit . . .—Juv. 

As I was walking in my Chamber the Morning before I went 
last into the Country, I heard the Hawkers with great Vehe¬ 
mence crying about a Paper, entit'led The ninety nine Plagues 
of an empty Purse. I had indeed some Time before observed, 
that the Orators of Grub-street had dealt very much in Plagues : 
They have already published in the same Month The Plagues of 
Matrimony, The Plagues of a single Life, The nineteen Plagues 
of a Chambermaid, The Plagues of a Coachman, The Plagues of 
a Footman, and The Plague of Plagues. The Success these 
several Plagues met with, probably gave Occasion to the above- 
mentioned Poem on an empty Purse. However that be, the 
same Noise so frequently repeated under my Window, drew 
me insensibly to think on some of those Inconveniences and 
Mortifications which usually attend on Poverty, and in short 
gave Birth to the present Speculation; for after my Fancy had 
run over the most obvious and common Calamities which Men 
of mean Fortunes are liable to, it descended to those little 
Insults and Contempts, which, tho' they may seem to dwindle 
into nothing when a Man offers to describe them, are perhaps 
in themselves more cutting and insupportable than the former, 
Juvenal with a great deal of Humour and Reason tells us, that 
nothing bore harder upon a poor Man in his Time, than the 
continual Ridicule which his Habit and Dress afforded to the 
Beaus of Rome. 

Quid, quod materiam praebet causasque jocorum 
Omnibus hie idem, si Joeda (S* scissa lacerna, 

Si toga sofdidula est, 6- rupta calceus alter 
Pelle paiet, vel si consuto vulnere crassum 
Atquc recens linum ostendit non una cicatrix —Juv. Sat. 3. 

Add, that the Rich have still a Gibe in Store, 

A nd will be monstrous witty on the Poor ; 

For the torn Surtoui and the tatter’d Vest, 

The Wretch and all his Wardrobe are a Jest: 

The greasy Gown sully’d with often turning. 

Gives a good Hint to say the Man 's in Mourning: 

Or if the Shoe he ript, or patch is put. 

He h wounded I see the Plaister on his Foot. —Dryd. 

'Tis on this Occasion that he afterwards adds the Reflection 
which I have chosen for my Motto. 

Want is the Scorn of ev’ry wealthy Fool, 

And Wit in Rags is turnd to Ridicule. —Dryd. 



No. 150. Wednesday, Aug, 22, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 453 

It must be confess'd, that few things make a Man appear 
more despicable, or more prejudice his Hearers against what he 
is going to offer, than an awkward or pitiful Dress; insomuch 
that I fancy, had Tully himself pronounced one of his Orations 
with a Blanket about his Shoulders, more People would have 
laughed at his Dress than have admired his Eloquence. This 
last Reflection made me wonder at a Set of Men, who, without 
being subjected to it by the Unkindness of their Fortunes, are 
contented to draw upon themselves the Ridicule of the World 
in this Particular; I mean such as take it into their Heads, that 
the first regular Step to be a Wit is to commence a Sloven. It 
is certain nothing has so much debased that, which must have 
been otherwise so great a Character; and I know not how to 
account for it, unless it may possibly be in Complaisance to 
those narrow Minds who can have no Notion of the same Per¬ 
son’s possessing different Accomplishments; or that it is a sort 
of Sacrifice which some Men are contented to make to Calumny, 
by allowing it to fasten on one Part of their Character, while 
they are endeavouring to establish another. Yet however 
unaccountable this foolish Custom is, I am afraid it could 
plead a long Prescription; and probably gave too much Occa¬ 
sion for the vulgar Definition still remaining among us of an 
Heathen Philosopher, 

I have seen the Speech of a Terrae-filius, spoken in King 
Charles II’s Reign; in which he describes two very eminent 
Men, who were perhaps the greatest Scholars of their Age; and 
after having mentioned the in tire Friendship between them, 
concludes, That they had hut one Mind, one Purse, one Chamber, 
and one Hat, The Men of Business were also infected with a 
sort of Singularity little better than this, I have heard my 
Father say, that a broad-brimm’d Hat, short Hair, and an un¬ 
folded Handkerchief, were in his Time absolutely necessary to 
denote a notable Man ; and that he had known two or three who 
aspired to the Characters of very notable, wear Shooe-strings 
with great Success. 

To the Honour of our present Age it must be allowed, that 
some of our greatest Genius's for Wit and Business have almost 
intirely broke the Neck of these Absurdities. 

Victor, after having dispatched the most important Affairs 
of the Commonwealth, has appear'd at an Assembly, where all 
the Ladies have declared him the genteelest Man in the Com¬ 
pany ; and in A tticus, tho' every way one of the greatest Genius's 
the Age has produc'd, one sees nothing particular in his Dress 
or Carriage to denote his Pretensions to Wit and Learning; So 
that at present a Man may venture to cock up his Hat, and wear 
a fashionable Wig, without being taken for a Rake or a Fool. 



454 the spectator No, 150. Wednesday, Aug. 22,1^11 

The Medium between a Fop and a Sloven is what a Man of 
Sense would endeavour to keep; yet I remember Mr. Osbourn 
advises his Son to appear in his Habit rather above than below 
his Fortune; and tells him, that he will find an handsome Suit 
of Cloaths always procures some additional Respect. I have 
indeed my self observed, that my Banker ever bows lowest to 
me when I wear my full-bottom’d Wig; and writes me Mr. or 
Esq. accordingly as he sees me dress'd. 

1 shall conclude this Paper with an Adventure which I was 
my self an Eye-witness of very lately. 

I happened the other Day to call in at a celebrated Coffee¬ 
house near the Temple. I had not been there long when there 
came in an elderly Man very meanly dress’d, and sat down by 
me; he had a thread-bare loose Coat on, which it was plain he 
wore to keep himself warm, and not to favour his under Suit, 
which seemed to have been at least its Contemporary: His 
short Wig and Hat were both answerable to the rest of his 
Apparel. He was no sooner seated than he called for a Dish of 
Tea; but as several Gentlemen in the Room wanted other 
things, the Boys of the House did not think themselves at 
Leisure to mind him. I could observe the old Fellow was 
very uneasy at the Affront, and at his being obliged to repeat 
his Commands several Times to no Purpose; till at last one of 
the Lads presented him with some stale Tea in a broken Dish, 
accompanied with a Plate of brown Sugar; which so raised his 
Indignation, that after several obliging Appellations of Dog and 
Rascal, he asked him aloud before the whole Company, Why 
he must be used with less Respect than that Fop there? pointing to 
a well-dress’d young Gentleman who was drinking Tea at the 
oppossite Table. The Boy of the House reply’d with a good 
deal of Pertness, That his Master had two sorts of Customers, 
and that the Gentleman at the other Table had given him 
many a Six Pence for wiping his Shooes. By this time the 
young Templar who found his Honour concerned in the Dis¬ 
pute, and that the Eyes of the whole Coffee-house were upon 
him, had thrown aside a Paper he had in his Hand and was 
coming towards us, while we at the Table made what Haste we 
could to get away from the impending Quarrel, but were all of 
us surprized to see him as he approached nearer put on an Air 
of Deference and Respect. To whom the old Man said. Hark 
you. Sirrah, I 'll pay off your extravagant Bills once more ; but will 
take effectual Care for the future, that your Prodigality shall not 
spirit up a Parcel of Rascals to insult your Father. 

Tho’ I by no Means approve either the Impudence of the 
Servants or the Extravagance of the Son, I cannot but think 
the old Gentleman was in some Measure justly served for 



No.J^o. Wednesday, Atig. 22, 1711 THE SPECTA TOR 455 

walking in Masquerade, T mean appearing in a Dress so much 
beneath his Quality and Estate. X 


No. 151. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, August 23. 

Maximas virtutes jacere omnes necesse est voluptate 
dominante. —Tull. De Fin. 

I KNOW no one Character that gives Reason a greater Shock, at 
the same Time that it presents a good ridiculous Image to the 
Imagination, than that of a Man of Wit and Pleasure about the 
Town. This Description of a Man of Fashion, spoken by some 
with a Mixture of Scorn and Ridicule, by others with great 
Gravity as a laudable Distinction, is in every Body's Mouth 
that spends any Time in Conversation. My Friend Will. 
Honeycomb has this Expression very frequently; and I never 
could understand by the Story which follows, upon his Mention 
of such a one, but that his Man of Wit and Pleasure was cither 
a Drunkard too old for Wenching, or a young lewd Fellow with 
some Liveliness, who would converse with you, receive kind 
Offices of you, and at the same time debauch your Sister or 
lye with your Wife. According to his Description, a Man of 
Wit when he could have Wenches for Crowns a Piece which he 
liked quite as well, would be so extravagant as to bribe Ser¬ 
vants, make false Friendships, fight Relations; I say according 
to him plain and simple Vice was too little for a Man of Wit and 
Pleasure; but he would leave an easy and accessible Wicked¬ 
ness, to come at the same thing with only the Addition of cer¬ 
tain Falshood, and possible Murder. Will, thinks the Town 
grown very dull, in that we do not hear so much as we used 
to do of these Coxcombs, whom (without observing it) he 
describes as the most infamous Rogues in Nature, with Rela¬ 
tion to Friendship, Love, or Conversation. 

When Pleasure is made the chief Pursuit of Life, it will 
necessarily follow that such Monsters as these will arise from 
a constant Application to such Blandishments as naturally root 
out the Force of Reason and Reflexion, and substitute in their 
Place a general Impatience of Thought, and a constant Pruri¬ 
ency of inordinate Desire. 

Pleasure, when it is a Man's chief Purpose, disappoints it 
self; and the constant Application to it palls the Faculty of 
enjoying it, tho’ it leaves the Sense of our Inability for that 
we wish, with a Disrelish of every thing else. Thus the 



456 THE SPECTATOR No. 151. Thursday, Aug, 2^, ij 11 

intermediate Seasons of the Man of Pleasure, are more heavy 
than one would impose upon the vilest Criminal. Take him 
when he is awaked too soon after a Debauch, or disappointed in 
following a worthless Woman without Truth, and there is no 
Man living whose Being is such a Weight or Vexation as his is. 
He is an utter Stranger to the pleasing Reflexions in the Even¬ 
ing of a well-spent Day, or the Gladness of Heart or Quickness 
of Spirit in the Morning after profound Sleep or indolent 
Slumbers. He is not to be at Ease any longer than he can 
keep Reason and good Sense without his Curtains; otherwise 
he will be haunted with the Reflection, that he could not be¬ 
lieve such a one the Woman that upon Tryal he found her. 
What has he got by his Conquest, but to think meanly of her 
for whom a Day or two before he had the highest Honour? 
and of himself for, perhaps, wronging the Man whom of all 
Men living he himself would least willingly have injured? 

Pleasure seizes the whole Man who addicts himself to it, 
and will not give him Leisure for any good Office in Life which 
contradicts the Gayety of the present Hour. You may indeed 
observe in People of Pleasure a certain Complacency and Ab¬ 
sence of all Severity, which the Habit of a loose unconcerned 
Life gives them; but tell the Man of Pleasure your secret 
Wants, Cares, or Sorrows, and you will find he has given up the 
Delicacy of his Passions to the Cravings of his Appetites. He 
little knows the perfect Joy he loses, for the disappointing 
Gratifications which he pursues. He looks at Pleasure as she 
approaches, and comes to you with the Recommendation of 
warm Wishes, gay Looks, and graceful Motion; but he does not 
observe how she leaves his Presence with Disorder, Impotence, 
downcast Shame, and conscious Imperfection. She makes our 
Youth inglorious, our Age shameful. 

Will. Honeycomb gives us twenty Intimations in an Even¬ 
ing of several Hags whose Bloom was given up to his Arms; 
and would raise a Value to himself for having had, as the 
Phrase is, very good Women. Will's good Women are the 
Comfort of his Heart, and support him, I warrant, by the 
Memory of past Interviews with Persons of their Condition. 
No, there is not in the World an Occasion wherein Vice makes 
so phantastical a Figure, as at the Meeting of two old People 
who have been Partners in unwarrantable Pleasure. To tell a 
toothless old Lady that she once had a good Set, or a defunct 
Wencher that he once was the admired Thing of the Town, are 
Satyrs instead of Applauses; but on the other Side, consider 
the old Age of those who havo passed their Days in Labour, 
Industry, and Virtue, their Decays make them but appear the 
more venerable, and the Imperfections of their Bodies are 



No. isi> Thursday, Aug. 2'^, ij 11 THE SPECTATOR 457 

beheld as a Misfortune to humane Society that their Make is so 
little durable. 

But to return more directly to my Man of Wit and Pleasure. 
In all Orders of Men where-ever this is the chief Character, 
the Person who wears it is a negligent Friend, Father, and 
Husband, and intails Poverty on his unhappy Descendants. 
Mortgages, Diseases, and Settlements are the Legacies a Man 
of Wit and Pleasure leaves to his Family. All the poor Rogues 
that make such lamentable Speeches after every Sessions at 
Tyburn, were, in their Way, Men of Wit and Pleasure before 
they fell into the Adventures which brought them thither. 

Irresolution and Procrastination in all a Man's Affairs, are 
the natural Effects of being addicted to Pleasure: Dishonour to 
the Gentleman and Bankrupey to the Trader, axe the Portion 
of either whose chief Purpose of Life is Delight. The chief 
Cause that this Pursuit has been in all Ages received with so 
much Quarter from the soberer Part of Mankind, has been that 
some Men of great Talents have sacrificed themselves to it: 
The shining Qualities of such People have given a Beauty to 
whatever they were engaged in, and a Mixture of Wit has re¬ 
commended Madness. For let any Man who knows what it's 
to have passed much Time in a Series of Jollity, Mirth, Wit, or 
humourous Entertainments, look back at what he was all that 
while a doing, and he will find that he has been at one Instant 
sharp to some Man he is sorry to have offended, impertinent to 
some one it was Cruelty to treat with such Freedom, un¬ 
gracefully noisie at such a Time, unskilfully open at such a 
Time, unmercifully calumnious at such a Time; and from the 
whole Course of his applauded Satisfactions, unable in the End 
to recollect any Circumstance which can add to the Enjoyment 
of his own Mind alone, or which he would put his Character 
upon with other Men. Thus it is with those who are best 
made for becoming Pleasures; but how monstrous is it in the 
Generality of Mankind who pretend this Way, without Genius or 
Inclination towards it ? The Scene then is wild to an Extrava¬ 
gance; this is as if Fools should mimick Madmen. Pleasure of 
this Kind is the intemperate Meals and loud Jollities of the 
common Rate of Country Gentlemen, whose Practice and Way 
of Enjoyment is to put an End as fast as they can to that little 
Particle of Reason they have when they are sober: These Men 
of Wit and Pleasure dispatch their Senses as fast as possible, by 
drinking till they cannot taste, smoaking till they cannot see, 
and roaring till they cannot hear. T 



458 T?JE SPECTATOR No. 152. Friday, Aug. 24, 1711 


No. 152. 

[Sl'HELE.] Friday, August 24. 

Oil) TTf/j rolt) Kal avSpuiv .— Horn. 

There is no sort of People whose Conversation is so pleasant 
as that of military Men, who derive their Courage and Mag¬ 
nanimity from Thought and Reflection. The many Adven¬ 
tures which attend their Way of Life makes their Conversation 
so full of Incidents, and gives them so frank an Air in speaking 
of what they have been Witnesses of, that no Company can 
be more amiable than that of Men of Sense who are Soldiers. 
There is a certain irregular Way in their Narrations or Dis¬ 
course, which has something more warm and pleasing than we 
meet with among Men who are used to adjust and methodize 
their Thoughts. 

I was this Evening walking in the Fields with my Friend 
Captain Sentrey, and I could not, from the many Relations 
which I drew him into of what passed when he was in the 
Service, forbear expressing my Wonder, that the Fear of Death, 
which we, the rest of Mankind, arm our selves against with so 
much Contemplation, Rea.son and Philosophy, should appear 
so little in Camps, that common Men march into open Breaches, 
meet opposite Battallions, not only without Reluctance but 
with Alacrity. My Friend answered what I said in the follow¬ 
ing manner: ‘What you wonder at may very naturally be the 
Subject of Admiration to all who are not conversant in Camps; 
but when a Man has spent some Time in that Way of Life, 
he observes a certain Mechanick Courage which the ordinary 
Race of Men become Masters of from acting always in a Crowd: 
They see indeed many drop, but then they see many more 
alive; they observe themselves escape very narrowly, and they 
do not know why they should not again. Besides which general 
way of loose thinking, they usually spend the other Part of 
their Time in Pleasures, upon which their Minds are so entirely 
bent, that short Labours or Dangers are but a cheap Purchase 
of Jollity, Triumph, Victory, fresh Quarters, new Scenes, and 
uncommon Adventures. Such are the Thoughts of the Execu¬ 
tive Part of an Army, and indeed of the Gross of Mankind in 
general; but none of these Men of Mechanical Courage have 
ever made any great Figure in the Profession of Arms. Those 
who are formed for Command, are such as have reasoned 
themselves, out of a Consideration of greater Good than Length 
of Days, into such a Negligence of their Being, as to make it 
their first Position. That it is one Day to be resigned; and 
since it is, in the Prosecution of worthy Actions and Service 



No. 152. Friday, Aug. 24, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 459 

of Mankind they can put it to habitual Hazard. The Event 
of our Designs, say they, as it relates to others, is uncertain; 
but as it relates to our selves it must be prosperous, while we 
are in the Pursuit of our Duty, and within the Terms upon 
which Providence has ensured our Happiness, whether we die 
or live. All that Nature has prescribed must be good; and as 
Death is natural to us, it is Absurdity to fear it. Fear loses its 
Purpose when we are sure it cannot preserve us, and we should 
draw Resolution to meet it from the Impossibility to escape it. 
Without a Resignation to the Necessity of dying, there can be 
no Capacity in Man to attempt any thing that is glorious; but 
when they have once attained to that Perfection, the Pleasures 
of a Life spent in Martial Adventures are as great as any of 
which the human Mind is capable. The Force of Reason gives 
a certain Beauty, mixed with the Conscience of Well-doing and 
Thirst of Glory, to all which before was terrible and ghastly 
to the Imagination. Add to this, that the Fellowship of 
Danger, the common Good of Mankind, the general Cause, and 
the manifest Virtue you may observe in so many Men, who 
made no Figure till that Day, are so many Incentives to destroy 
the little Consideration of their own Persons.' Such are the 
Heroick Part of Soldiers who are qualified for Leaders: As to 
the rest whom I before spoke of, I know not how it is, but they 
arrive at a certain Habit of being void of Thought, insomuch 
that on Occasion of the most imminent Danger they are still 
in the same Indifference: Nay I remember an Instance of a 
gay Frenchman who was led on in Battle by a superior Officer 
(whose Conduct it was his Custom to speak of always with 
Contempt and Raillery), and in the Beginning of the Action 
received a Wound he was sensible was mortal; his Reflection on 
this Occasion was, I wish I could live another Hour, to see how 
this blundering Coxcomb will get clear of this Business. 

I remember two young Fellows who rid in the same Squadron 
of a Troop of Horse, who were ever together; they eat, they 
drank, they intreagued; in a Word, all their Passions and 
Affections seem’d to tend the same Way, and they appear’d 
serviceable to each other in them. We were in the Dusk of 
the Evening to march over a Itiver, and the Troop these 
Gentlemen belonged to were to be transported in a Ferry-boat 
as fast as they could. One of the Friends was now in the Boat, 
wliile the other was drawn up with others by the Water-side 
waiting the Return of the Boat. A Disorder happened in the 
Passage by an unruly Horse: and a Gentleman who had the 
Rein of his Horse negligently under his Arm, was forced into 
the Water by his Horse's jumping over. The Friend on the 
Shore cry'd out, who's that is drowned trow ? He was , 



460 THE SPECTATOR No. 152. Friday, Aug. 24, 1711 

immediately answered, your Friend, Harry Thompson, He 
very gravely replyed, Ay, he had a mad Horse. This short 
Epitaph from such a Familiar without more Words, gave me, 
at that Time under Twenty, a very moderate Opinion of the 
Friendship of Companions. Thus is Affection and every other 
Motive of Life in the Generality, rooted out by the present 
busy Scene about them; They lament no Man whose Capacity 
can be supplied by another; and where Men converse without 
Delicacy, the next Man you meet will serve as well as he whom 
you have lived with half your Life. To such the Devastation 
of Countries, the Misery of Inhabitants, the Cries of the Pil¬ 
laged, and the silent Sorrow of the great Unfortunate, are 
ordinary Objects; their Minds are bent upon the little Gratifica¬ 
tions of their own Senses and Appetites, forgetful of Com¬ 
passion, insensible of Glory, avoiding only Shame; their whole 
Hearts taken up with the trivial Hope of meeting and being 
merry. These are the People who make up the Gross of the 
Soldiery; But the fine Gentleman in that Band of Men, is such 
a one as I have now in my Eye, who is foremost in all Danger 
to which he is ordered. His Officers are his Friends and Com¬ 
panions, as they are Men of Honour and Gentlemen; the private 
Men his Brethren, as they are of his Species. He is beloved 
of all that behold him: They wish him in Danger as he views 
their Ranks, that they may have Occasions to save him at their 
own Hazard. Mutual Love is the Order of the Files where he 
commands; every Man afraid for himself and his Neighbour, 
not lest their Commander should punish them, but lest he 
should be offended. Such is his Regiment who knows Mankind, 
and feels their Distresses so far as to prevent them. Just in 
distributing what is their Due, he would think himself below 
their Taylor to wear a Snip of their Cloaths in Lace upon his 
own; and below the most rapacious Agent, should he enjoy 
a Farthing above his own Pay. Go on, brave Man, immortal 
Glory is thy Fortune, and immortal Happiness thy Reward.* T 


No. 153. 

[STEELE.] Saturday, August 25. 

Habet natura %U aliarum omnium rerum sic vivendi modum; senecius 
autem peractio aetatis est tanquam fabulae. Cujus defatigationem 
fugere debemus, praesertim adjuncta satieiate. —Tull, be Senect. 

Of all the impertinent Wishes which we hear expressed in 
Conversation, there is not one more unworthy a Gentleman 
or a Man of liberal Education, than that of wishing one's 



No. 153. Saturday, Aug. 25, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 461 

self younger. I have observed this Wish is usually made 
upon Sight of some Object which gives the Idea of a past 
Action, that it is no Dishonour to us that we cannot now 
repeat; or else on what was in it self shameful when we 
performed it. It is a certain Sign of a foolish or a dissolute 
Mind, if we want our Youth again only for the Strength 
of Bones and Sinews which we once were Masters of. It 
is (as my Author has it) as absurd in an old Man to wish for 
the Strength of a Youth, as it would be in a young Man to wish 
for the Strength of a Bull or a Horse. These Wishes are both 
equally out of Nature, which should direct in all things that 
are not contradictory to J usticc. Law and Reason. But tho' 
every old Man has been Young, and every young one hopes to 
be old, there seems to be a most unnatural Misunderstanding 
between those two Stages of Life. This unhappy Want of 
Commerce arises from the insolent Arrogance or Exultation in 
Youth, and the irrational Despondence or self-pity in Age. A 
young Man whose Passion and Ambition is to be good and wise, 
and an old one who has no Inclination to be lewd or debauched, 
are quite unconcerned in this Speculation; but the Cocking 
young Fellow who treads upon the Toes of his Elders, and the 
old Fool who envyes the sawey Pride he sees him in, are the 
Objects of our present Contempt and Derision. Contempt and 
Derision are harsh Words; but in what manner can one give 
advice to a Youth in the pursuit and Possession of sensual 
Pleasures, or afiord Pity to an old Man in the impotence and 
desire of Enjoying them? When young Men in publick 
Places betray in their Deportment an abandoned Resignation 
to their Appetites, they give to sober Minds a Prospect of a 
despicable Age, which, if not interrupted by Death in the midst 
of their Follies, must certainly come. When an old Man be¬ 
wails the Loss of such Gratifications which are passed, he dis¬ 
covers a monstrous Inclination to that which it is not in the 
Course of Providence to recall. The State of an old Man, who 
is dissatisfi'd merely for his being such, is the most out of all 
Measures of Reason and good Sense of any Being we have any 
Account of from the highest Angel to the lowest Worm. How 
miserable is the Contemplation to consider a libidinous old 
Man (while all Created things, beside himself and Devils, are 
following the order of Providence) fretting at the Course of 
things, and being almost the sole Malecontent in the Creation. 
But let us a little reflect upon what he has lost by the number 
of Years : The Passions which he had in Youth are not to be 
obeyed as they were then, but Reason is more powerful now 
without the Disturbance of them. An old Gentleman t’other 
day in Discourse with a Friend of his, (reflecting upon some 



462 THE SPECTATOR No. 153. Saturday, Aug. 25, 1711 

Adventures they had in Youth together) cry’d out. Oh Jack 
those were happy Days! That is true, replyed his Friend, hut 
methinks we go about our Business more quietly than we did then. 
One would think it should be no small Satisfaction to have gone 
so far in our Journey that the Heat of the Day is over with us. 
When Life it self is a Feaver, as it is in licentious Youth, the 
Pleasures of it are no other than the Dreams of a Man in that 
Distemper; and it is as absurd to wish the Return of that 
Season of Life, as f(jr a Man in Health to be sorry for the Loss 
of gilded Palaces, fairy Walks, and flowery Pastures, with which 
he remembers he was entertained in the troubled Slumbers 
of a Fit of Sickness. 

As to all the rational and worthy Pleasures of our Being, the 
Conscience of a good Fame, the Contemplation of another Life, 
the Respect and Commerce of honest Men, our Capacities 
for such Enjoyments are enlarged by Years. While Health 
endures, the latter Part of Life, in the Eye of Reason, is cer¬ 
tainly the more eligible. The Memory of a well-spent Youth 
gives a peaceable, unmixed, and elegant Pleasure to the Mind; 
and to such who are so unfortunate as not to be able to look 
back on Youth with Satisfaction, they may give themselves 
no little Consolation that they are under no Temptation to 
repeat their Follies, and that they at present despise them. It 
was prettily said, 'He that would be long an old Man, must 
begin early to be one': It is too late to resign a thing after a 
Man is robbed of it; therefore it is necessary that before the 
Arrival of Age we bid adieu to the Pursuits of Youth, otherwise 
sensual Habits will live in our Imaginations when our Limbs 
cannot be subservient to them. The poor F'ellow who lost his 
Arm last Siege will tell you, he feels the Fingers that are buried 
in Flanders ake every cold Morning at Chelsea. 

The fond Humour of appearing in the gay and fashionable 
World, and being applauded for trivial Excellencies, is what 
makes Youth have Age in Contempt, and makes Age resign 
with so ill a Grace the Qualifications of Youth: But this in 
both Sexes is inverting all things, and turning the natural 
Course of our Minds, which should build their Approbations 
and Di.slikes upon what Nature and Reason dictate, into 
Chimera and Confusion. 

Age in a virtuous Person, of either Sex, carries in it an 
Authority which makes it preferable to all the Pleasures of 
Youth. If to be saluted, attended, and consulted with 
Deference, are Instances of Pleasure, they are such as never 
fail a virtuous old Age. In the' Enumeration of the Imperfec¬ 
tions and Advantages of the younger and later Years of Man, 
they are so near in their Condition that, methinks, it should be 



No. 153. Saturday, Aug. 25, 1711 THE SPECTAl'OR 463 

incredible we see so little Commerce of Kindness between them. 
Jf we consider Youth and Age with Tully, regarding the 
Affinity to Death, Youth has many more Chances to be near 
it than Age; what Youth can say more than an old Man, He 
shall live till Night? Youth catches Distempers more easily, 
its Sickness is more violent, and its Recovery more doubtful. 
The Youth indeed hopes for many more Days, so cannot the 
old Man: The Youth’s Hopes are ill grounded; for what is more 
foolish than to place any Confidence upon an Uncertainty? 
But the old Man has not Room .so much as for Hope; he is still 
happier than the Youth, he has already enjoyed what the other 
does but hope for; One wishes to live long, the other has lived 
long. But alas, is there any thing in humane Life, the Dura¬ 
tion of which can be called long ? There is nothing which must 
end to be valued for its Continuance. If Hours, Days, Months, 
and Years pass away, it is no Matter what Hour, what Day, 
what Month, or what Year we dye. The Applause of a good 
Actor is due to him at whatever Scene of the Play he makes his 
Exit. It is thus in the Life of a Man of Sense, a short Life is 
sufficient to manifest himself a Man of Honour and Virtue: 
when he ceases to be such he has lived too long; and while ho 
is such, it is of no Consequence to him how long he shall be so, 
provided he is so to his Life’s End. T 


No. 154. 

[STEELE.] Monday, August 27. 

Nemo repente fuit turpissimus . . .—Juv. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

You arc frequent in the Mention of Matters which concern the 
feminine World, and take upon you to be very severe against 
Men upon all those Occasions: But all this while I am afraid 
you have been very little conversant with Women, or you 
would know the Generality of them are not so angry as you 
imagine at the general Vices amongst us. I am apt to believe 
(begging your Pardon) that you are still what I my self was 
once, a queer modest Fellow; and therefore, for your Informa¬ 
tion, shall give you a short Account of my self, and the Reasons 
why I was forced to wench, drink, play, and do every thing 
which are necessary to the Character of a Man of Wit and 
Pleasure, to be well with the Ladies. 

You are to know then that I was bred a Gentleman, and had 
the finishing Part of my Education under a Man of great 
Probity, Wit, and Learning in one of our Universities. I will 



464 THE SPECTA 2 OR No. 154. Monday, Aug. 27, 1711 

not deny but this made my Behaviour and Mein bear in it a 
Figure of Thought rather than Action; and a Man of quite 
contrary Character, who never thought in his Life, rallied me 
one Day upon it, and said He believ'd I was still a Virgin. 
There was a young Lady of Virtue present, and I was not dis¬ 
pleased to favour the Insinuation: But it had a quite contrary 
Effect from what I expected; I was ever after treated with great 
Coldness both by that Lady and all the rest of my Acquaint¬ 
ance. In a very little Time I never came into a Room but I 
could hear a Whisper, Here comes the Maid: A Girl of Humour 
would on some Occasion say, Why how do you know more 
than any of us? An Expression of that kind was generally 
followed by a loud Laugh: In a Word, for no other Fault in the 
World than that they really thought me as innocent as them¬ 
selves, I became of no Consequence among them, and was 
receiv’d always upon the Foot of a Jest. This made so strong 
an Impression upon me, that I resolv’d to be as agreeable as 
the best of the Men who laugh’d at me; but I observed it was 
Nonsense for me to be impudent at first among those who 
knew me; My Character for Modesty was so notorious wherever 
I had hitherto appeared, that I resolved to shew my new Face 
in new Quarters of the World. My first Step I chose with 
Judgment, for I went to A strop', and came down among a 
Crowd of Academicks, at one Dash, the impudentest Fellow 
they had ever seen in their Lives. Flushed with this Success, 
I made Love and was happy. Upon this Conquest I thought 
it would be unlike a Gentleman to stay long with my Mistress, 
and crossed the Country to Bury : I could give you a very good 
Account of my self at that Place also. At these two ended my 
first Summer of Gallantry. The Winter following, you would 
wonder at it, but I relapsed into Modesty upon coming among 
People of Figure in London, yet not so much but that the Ladies 
who had formerly laughed at me said. Bless usl how wonder¬ 
fully that Gentleman is improved ? Some Familiarities about 
the Play-houses towards the End of the ensuing Winter, made 
me conceive new Hopes of Adventures; and instead of re¬ 
turning the next Summer to A strop or Bury, I thought my self 
qualified to go to Epsom ; and followed a young Woman, whose 
Relations were jealous of my Place in her Favour, to Scar¬ 
borough. I carried my Point, and in my third Year aspired to 
go to Tunbridge, and in the Autumn of the same Year made 
my Appearance at Bath. I was now got into the Way of Talk 
proper for Ladies, and was run into a vast Acquaintance among 
them, which I always improved to the best Advantage. In all 
this Course of Time, and some Years following, I found a sober 
modest Man was always looked upon by both Sexes as a precise 



No. 154. Monday, Aug. 27, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 465 

unfashioned Fellow of no Life or Spirit. It was ordinary for a 
Man who had been drunk in good Company, or passed a Night 
with a Wench, to speak of it next Day before Women for 
whom he had the greatest Respect. He was reproved, perhaps, 
with a Blow of the Fan or an oh Fie, but the angry Lady still 
preserved an apparent Approbation in her Countenance: He 
was called a strange wicked Fellow, a sad Wretch; he shrugs 
his Shoulders, swears, receives another Blow, swears again he 
did not know he swore, and all was well. You might often see 
Men game in the presence of Women, and throw at once for 
more than they were worth, to recommend themselves as Men 
of Spirit. I found by long Experience, that the loosest Prin¬ 
ciples and most abandoned Behaviour, carried all before them 
in Pretentions to Women of Fortune. The Encouragement 
given to People of this Stamp, made me soon throw off the 
remaining Impressions of a sober Education. In the above- 
mentioned Places, as well as in Town, I always kept Company 
with those who lived most at large; and in due Process of 
Time I was a very pretty Rake among the Men, and a very 
pretty Fellow among the Women. I must confess 1 had some 
melancholy Hours upon the Account of the Narrowness of my 
Fortune, but my Conscience at the same Time gave me the 
Comfort that I had qualified my self for marrying a Fortune. 

When I had lived in this Manner for some Time, and became 
thus accomplished, I was now in the Twenty seventh Year of 
my Age, and about the Forty seventh of my Constitution, my 
Health and Estate wasting very fast; when I happened to fall 
into the Company of a very pretty young Lady in her own 
Disposal. I entertained the Company, as we Men of Gallantry 
generally do, with the many Haps and Disasters, Watchings 
under Windows, Escapes from jealous Husbands, and several 
other Perils. The young thing was w'onderfully charmed with 
one that knew the World so well and talked so fine; with 
Desdemona, all her Lover said affected her; it was strange, *twas 
wond'rous strange. In a Word, I saw the Impression I had 
made upon her, and with a very little Application the pretty 
thing has married me. There is so much charm in her Inno¬ 
cence and Beauty, that I do now as much detest the Course I 
have been in for many Years, as ever I did before I entred 
into it. 

What I intend, Mr. Spectator, by writing all this to you, 
is, that you would, before you go any further with your Panegy- 
ricks on the fair Sex, give them some Lectures upon their silly 
Approbations. It is that I am weary of Vice, and that it was 
not in my natural Way, that I am now so far recovered as not , 
to bring this believing dear Creature to Contempt and Poverty , 



466 THE SPECTATOR No. 154. Monday, Aug. 27, 1711 

for her Generosity to me. At the same Time tell the Youth of 
good Education of our Sex, that they take too little Care of 
improving themselves in little things: A good Air at entring into 
a Room, a proper Audacity in expressing himself with Gayety 
and Gracefulness, would make a young Gentleman of Virtue 
and Sense capable of discountenancing the shallow impudent 
Rogues that shine among the Women. 

Mr. Spectator, I don’t doubt but you are a very sagacious 
Person, but you are so great with Tully of late, that I fear you 
will contemn these things as Matters of no Consequence: But 
believe me. Sir, they are of the highest Importance to humane 
Life; and if you can do any thing towards opening fair Eyes, 
you will lay an Oljligation upon all your Contemporaries who 
are Fathers, Husbands, or Brothers to Females. 

Your most affectionate humble Servant, 

Simon Honeycomb.' 

T 


No. 155. 

[STEELE,] Tuesday, August 28. 

. . . Hae nuc:ae seria ducent 
Ttt mala . . . —Hor. 

I HAVE more than once taken Notice of an indecent License 
taken in Discourse, wherein the Conversation on one Part is 
involuntary, and the Effect of some necessary Circumstance. 
This happens in travelling together in the same hired Coach, 
sitting near each other in any publick Assembly, or the like. 
I have upon making Observations of this sort received in¬ 
numerable Messages, from that Part of the fair Sex whose Lot 
in Life is to be of any Trade or publick Way of Life. They 
are all to a Woman urgent with me to lay before the World 
the unhappy Circumstances they are under, from the un¬ 
reasonable Liberty which is taken in their Presence, to talk on 
what Subject it is thought fit by every Coxcomb who wants 
Understanding or Breeding. One or two of these Complaints 
I shall set down. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

I keep a Coffee-house, and am one of those whom you have 
thought fit to mention as an Idol some Time ago. I suffered 
a good deal of Raillery upon that Occasion; but shall heartily 
forgive you, who were the Cause of it, if you will do me Justice 
in another Point. What 1 ask of you, is, to acquaint my 
Customers (who are otherwise very good ones) that I am un- 



No. 155. Tuesday, Aug. 28, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 467 

avoidably hasped in my Bar, and cannot help hearing the 
improper Discourses they are pleased to entertain me with. 
They.strive who shall say the most immodest things in my 
Hearing; At the same Time half a Dozen of them loll at the Bar 
staring just in my Face, ready to interpret my Looks and 
Gestures according to their own Imaginations. In this passive 
Condition I know not where to cast my Eyes, place my Hands, 
or what to employ my self in: But this Confusion is to be a 
Jest, and I hear them say in the End, with an insipid Air of 
Mirth and Subtlety, Let licr alone, she knows as well as we for 
all she looks so. Good Mr. Spectator, perswade Gentlemen 
that it is out of all Decency: Say it is possible a Woman may be 
modest, and yet keep a publick House. Be pleas’d to argue, 
that in Truth the Affront is the more unpardonable because I 
am obliged to suffer it, and cannot fly from it. I do assure you. 
Sir, the Chearfulness of Life which would arise from the honest 
Gain I have, is utterly lost to me from the endless, flat, im¬ 
pertinent Pleasantries which I hear from Morning to Night. 
In a Word, it is too much for me to bear; and I desire you to 
acquaint them, that I will keep Pen and Ink at the Bar, and 
write down all they say to me, and send it to you for the Press. 
It is possible when they see how empty what they speak, 
without the Advantage of an impudent Countenance and 
Gesture, will appear, they may come to some Sense of them¬ 
selves, and the Insults they are guilty of towards me. I am. 
Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

The Idol.’ 

This Representation is so just, that it is hard to speak of it 
without an Indignation which perhaps would appear too 
elevated to such as can be guilty of this inhuman Treatment, 
where they see they affront a modest, plain, and ingenuous 
Behaviour. This Correspondent is not the only Sufferer in 
this Kind, for I have long Letters both from the Royal and 
New Exchange on the same Subject. They tell me that a 
young Fop cannot buy a Pair of Gloves, but he is at the 
same Time straining for some ingenious Ribaldry to say to the 
young Woman who helps them on. It is no small Addition 
to the Calamity, that the Rogues buy as hard as the plainest 
and modestest Customers they have; besides which they loll 
upon their Counters half an Hour longer than they need, to 
drive away other Customers, who are to share their Impertinen- 
cies with the Milliner, or go to another Shop. Letters from 
* Change-Alley are full of the same Evil, and the Girls tell me 



468 THE SPECTATOR No. 155. Tuesday, Aug. 28, lyii 

except I can chace some eminent Merchants from their Shops 
they shall in a short Time fail. It is very unaccountable, that 
Men can have so little Deference to all Mankind who pass by 
them, as to bear being seen toying by twos and threes’at a 
Time, with no other Purpose but to appear gay enough to keep 
up a light Conversation of common-place Jests, to the Injury 
of her whose Credit is certainly hurt by it, tho' their own may 
be strong enough to bear it. When we come to have exact 
Accounts of these Conversations, it is not to be doubted but 
that their Discourses will raise the usual Stile of buying and 
selling; Instead of the plain down-right lying, and asking and 
bidding so unequally to what they will really give and take, 
we may hope to have from these fine Folks an Exchange of 
Complements. There must certainly be a great deal of 
pleasant Difference between the Commerce of Lovers, and that 
of all other Dealers, who are, in a Kind, Adversaries. A sealed 
Bond or a Bank Note, would be a pretty Gallantry to convey 
unseen into the Hands of one whom a Director is charmed with; 
otherwise the City Loiterers are still more unreasonable than 
those at the other End of the Town: At the New Exchange 
they are eloquent for want of Cash, but in the City they ought 
with Cash to supply their want of Eloquence. 

If one niight be serious on this prevailing Folly, one might 
observe, that it is a melancholy thing, when the World is 
mercenary even to the buying and selling our very Persons, 
that young Women, tho’ they have never so great Attractions 
from Nature, are never the nearer being happily disposed of in 
Marriage; I say, it is very hard under this Necessity, it shall 
not be possible for them to go into a Way of Trade for their 
Maintenance, but their very Excellencies and personal Per¬ 
fections shall be a Disadvantage to them, and subject them to be 
treated as if they stood there to sell their Persons to Prostitu¬ 
tion. There cannot be a more melancholy Circumstance to one 
who has made any Observation in the World, than one of these 
erring Creatures exposed to Bankruptcy. When that hap¬ 
pens, none of these toying Fools will do any more than any other 
Man they meet to preserve her from Infamy, Insult, and Dis¬ 
temper. A Woman is naturally more helpless than the other 
Sex; and a Man of Honour and Sense should have this in his 
View in all Manner of Commerce with her. Were this well 
weighed. Inconsideration, Ribaldry, and Nonsense would not 
be more natural to entertain W’omen with than Men; and it 
would be as much Impertinence to go into a Shop of one of 
these young Women without buying, as into that of any other 
Trader. I shall end this Speculation with a Letter I have 
received from a pretty Milliner in the City. 



No. 155 ' Tuesday, Aug. 2S, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 469 
‘Mr. Spectator, 

I have read your Account of Beauties, and was not a little 
surprized to find no Character of my self in it. I do assure 
you I have little else to do but to give Audience as I am such. 
Here are Merchants of no small Con.sideration, who call in as 
certainly as they go to 'Change to say something of my roguish 
Eye: And here is one who makes me once or twice a Week 
tumble over all my Goods, and then owns it was only a Gal¬ 
lantry to see me act with these pretty Hands; then lays out 
three Pence in a little Ribbon for his Wrist-bands, and thinks 
he is a Man of great Vivacity. There is an ugly thing not far 
off me, whose Shop is frequented only by People of Business, 
that is all Day long as busy as possible. Must I that am a 
Beauty be treated with for nothing but my Beauty? Be 
pleased to assign Rates to my kind Glances, or make all pay 
who come to see me, or I shall be undone by my Admirers 
for want of Customers. Albacinda, Eudosia, and all the rest 
would be used just as we are, if they were in our Condition; 
then^fore pray consider the Distress of us the lower Order of 
Beauties, and I shall be 

T Your oblig'd humble Servant* 


No. 156. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, August 29. 

. . . Sed iu simul ohligasti 

Perfidum votis caput, eniiescis 

Pulchrior muUo . . .—Hor. 

I DO not think any thing could make a pleasanter Entertain¬ 
ment, than the History of the reigning Favourites among the 
Women from Time to Time about this Town. In such an 
Account we ought to have a faithful Confession of each Lady 
for what she liked such and such a Man, and he ought to tell us 
by what particular Action or Dress he believed he should be 
most successful. As for my Part, I have always made as easy 
a Judgment when a Man dresses for the Ladies, as when he is 
equipped for Hunting or Coursing. The Woman's Man is a 
Person in his Air and Behaviour quite different from the rest 
of our Species; His Garb is more loose and negligent, his Manner 
more soft and indolent; that is to say, in both these Cases 
there is an apparent Endeavour to appear unconcerned and 
careless. In catching Birds the Fowlers have a Method of 
imitating their Voices to bring them to the Snare; and your 
Women’s Men have always a Similitude of the Creature they 



470 THE SPECTATOR No. 156. Wednesday, Aug. 2g, I'jix 

hope to betray, in their own Conversation. A Woman’s Man 
is very knowing in all that passes from one Family to another, 
has little pretty Officiousnes.ses, is not at a Loss what is good 
for a Cold, and it is not amiss if he has a Bottle of Spirits in his 
Pocket in case of any sudden Indisposition. 

Curiosity having been my prevailing Passion, and indeed the 
sole Entertainment of my Life, I have sometimes made it my 
Business to Examine the Course of Intreagues, as well as the 
Manners and Accomplishments of such as have been most 
successful that Way. In all my Observation, I never knew a 
Man of good Understanding a general Favourite; some Singu¬ 
larity in his Behaviour, some Whim in his Way of Life, and 
what would have made him ridiculous among the Men, has 
recommended him to the other Sex. I should be very sorry 
to offend a People so fortunate as these of whom I am speaking; 
but let any one look over the old Beaux, and he will find the 
Man of Success was remarkable for quarrelling impertinently 
for their Sakes, for dressing unlike the rest of the World, or 
passing his Days in an insipid Assiduity about the fair Sex, 
to gain the Figure he made amongst them. Add to this that 
he must have the Reputation of being well with other Women, 
to please any one Woman of Gallantry; for you are to know, 
that there is a mighty Ambition among the light Part of the 
Sex to gain Slaves from the Dominion of others. My Friend 
Will. Honeycomb says it was a common Bite with him, to 
lay Suspicions that he was favoured by a Lady's Enemy, that 
is some rival Beauty, to be well with her herself. A little 
Spite is natural to a great Beauty; and it is ordinary to snap 
up a disagreeable Fellow lest another should have him. That 
impudent Toad Bare face fares well among all the Ladies he 
converses with, for no other Reason in the World but that he 
has the Skill to keep them from Explanation with one another. 
Did they know there is not one who likes him in her Heart, 
each would declare her Scorn of him the next Moment; but he 
is well received by them because it is the Fashion, and Opposi¬ 
tion to each other brings them insensibly into an Imitation of 
each other. What adds to him the greatest Grace is, that the 
pleasant Thief, as they call him, is the most inconstant Creature 
living, has a wonderful deal of Wit and Humour, and never 
wants something to say; besides all which, he has a most spiteful 
dangerous Tongue if you should provoke him. 

To make a Woman's Man, he must not be a Man of Sense or 
a Fool; the Business is to entertain, and it is much better to 
have a Faculty of arguing than a Capacity of judging right. 
But the pleasantest of all the Women's Equipage are your 
regular Visitants; these axe Volunteers in their &rvice without 



No. i$6. Wednesday, Aug. 2g, lyti THE SPECTATOR 471 

Hopes of Pay or Preferment: It is enough that they can lead 
out from a publick Place, that they are admitted on a publick 
Day, and can be allowed to pass away part of that heavy Load, 
their Time, in the Company of the Fair. But commend me above 
all others to those who are known for your Ruinors of Ladies; 
these are the choicest Spirits which our Age produces. We 
have several of these irresistible Gentlemen among us when the 
Company is in Town. These Fellows are accomplished with 
the Knowledge of the ordinary Occurrences about Court and 
Town, have tLat sort of good Breeding which is exclusive of 
all Morality, and consists only in being publickly decent, 
privately dissolute. 

It is wonderful how far a fond Opinion of herself can carry 
a Woman to make her have the least Regard to a professed 
known Woman's Man: But as scarce one of all the Women who 
are in the Tour of Gallantries ever hears any thing of what is 
the common Sense of sober Minds, but are entertained with a 
continual Round of Flatteries, they cannot be Mistresses of 
themselves enough to make Arguments for their own Conduct 
from the Behaviour of these Men to others. It is so far other¬ 
wise, that a general Fame for Falshood in this kind, is a 
Recommendation; and the Coxcomb, loaded with the Favours 
of many others, is received like a Victor that disdains his 
Trophies, to be a Victim to the present Charmer. 

If you see a Man more full of Gesture than ordinary in a 
publick Assembly, if loud upon no Occasion, if negligent of the 
Company round him, and yet laying wait for destroying by 
that Negligence, you may take it for granted that he has ruined 
many a fair One. The Woman's Man expresses himself wholly 
in that Motion which we call Strutting: An elevated Chest, a 
pinched Hat, a measurable Step, and a sly surveying Eye, are 
the Marks of him. Now and then you see a Gentleman with 
all these Accomplishments; but alas any one of them is enough 
to undo thousands: When a Gentleman with such Perfections 
adds to it suitable Learning, there should be publick Warning 
of his Residence in Town, that we may remove our Wives and 
Daughters. It happens sometimes that such a fine Man has 
read all the Miscellany Poems, a few of our Comedies, and has 
the Translation of Ovid’s Epistles by Heart. Oh if it were 
possible that such a one could be as true as he is charming! 
but that is too much, the Women will share such a dear false 
Man: ‘A little Gallantry to hear him Talk one would indulge 
one’s self in, let him reckon the Sticks of one's Fan, say some¬ 
thing of the Cupids in it, and then call one so many soft Names 
which a Man of his Learning has at his Fingers-Ends. There 
sure is some Excuse for Frailty, when attack’d by such Force 

I—Q 



472 THE SPECTATOR JVo. 156. Wednesday, Aug. 2<^, ijii 

against a weak Woman.’ Such is the Soliloquy of many a 
Lady one might name, at the Sight of one of these who makes 
it no Iniquity to go on from Day to Day in the Sin of Woman- 
slaughter. 

It is certain that People are got into a way of Affection, with 
a manner of overlooking the most solid Virtues, and admiring 
the most trivial Excellencies. The Woman is so far from ex¬ 
pecting to be contemned for being a very injudicious silly 
Animal, that while she can preserve her Features and her 
Mein, she knows she is still the Object of Desire; and there is a 
sort of secret Ambition, from reading frivolous Books, and 
keeping as frivolous Company, each side to be amiable in 
Imperfection, and arrive at the Characters of the dear Deceiver 
and the perjured P'air. 

T 


No. 157. 

[STEELE.] Thursday, August 30. 

. . . Genius, natale comes qui temper at astrum. 

Naturae deus humanae, mortalis in unum 

Quodque caput . . .— Hot. 

I AM very much at a Loss to express by any Word that occurs 
to me in our Language that which is understood by Indoles in 
Latin. The natural Disposition to any particular Art, Science, 
Profession, or Trade, is very much to be consulted in the Care 
of Youth, and studied by Men for their own Conduct when 
they form to themselves any Scheme of Life. It is wonder¬ 
fully hard indeed for a Man to judge of his own Capacity im¬ 
partially; that may look great to me which may appear little 
to another, and I may be carried by Fondness towards my self 
so far, as to attempt things too high for my Talents and 
Accomplishments: But it is not methinks so very difficult a 
Matter to make a Judgment of the Abilities of others, especially 
of those who are in their Infancy. My common-place Book 
directs me on this Occasion to mention the Dawning of Great¬ 
ness in Alexander, who being asked in his Youth to contend for 
a Prize in the Olympick Games, answered he would if he had 
Kings to run against him. Cassius, who was one of the Con¬ 
spirators against Caesar, gave as great a Proof of his Temper, 
when in his Childhood he struck a Play-fellow, the Son of 
Sylla, for saying his Father was Master of the Roman People. 
Scipio is reported to have answered (when some Flatterers at 
Supper were asking him what the Romans should do for a 



No.i^j. Thursday. Aug,-^o, 1^11 THE SPECTATOR 473 

General after his Death), Take Marius. Marius was then a 
very Boy, and had given no Instances of his Valour; but it was 
visible to Scipio from the Manners of the Youth, that he had a 
Soul formed for the Attempt and Execution of great Under¬ 
takings. I must confess I have very often with much Sorrow 
bewailed the Misfortune of the Children of Great Britain, 
when I consider the Ignorance and Undisceming of the 
Generality of School-masters. The boasted Liberty we talk of 
is but a mean Reward for the long Servitude, the many Heart 
Aches and Terrours, to which our Childhood is exposed in 
going through a Grammar-School: Many of these stupid 
Tyrants exercise their Cruelty without anv Manner of Distinc¬ 
tion of the Capacities of Children, or the Intention of Parents 
in their Behalf. There arc many excellent Tempers which 
are worthy to be nourished and cultivated with all possible 
Diligence and Care, that were never designed to be acquainted 
with. Aristotle, Tully, or Virgil; and there are as many who have 
Capacities for understanding every Word those great Persons 
have writ, and yet were not born to have any Relish of their 
Writings. For want of this common and obvious discerning 
in those who have the Care of Youth, we have so many Hun¬ 
dred unaccountable Creatures every Age whipped up into great 
Scholars, that are for ever near a right Understanding, and will 
never arrive at it. These are the Scandal of Letters, and these 
are generally the Men who are to teach others. The Sense of 
Shame and Honour is enough to keep the World it self in Order 
without Corporal Punishment, much more to train the Minds 
of uncorrupted and innocent Children. It happens, I doubt 
not, more than once in a Year, that a Lad is chastised for a 
Blockhead, when it is good Apprehension that makes him in¬ 
capable of knowing what his Teacher means: A brisk Imagina¬ 
tion very often may suggest an Errour, which a Lad could not 
have fallen into if he had been as heavy in ponjecturing as his 
Master in explaining: But there is no Mercy even towards a 
wrong Interpretation of his Meaning; the Sufferings of the 
Scholar’s Body are to rectify the Mistakes of his Mind. 

I am confident that no Boy who will not be allured to Letters 
without Blows, will ever be brought to any thing with them. 
A great or good Mind must necessarily be the worse for such 
Indignities: and it is a sad Change to lose of its Virtue for the 
Improvement of its Knowledge. No one who has gone through 
what they call a great School, but must remember to have seen 
Children of excellent and ingenuous Natures (as has afterwards 
appeared in their Manhood); I say no Man has passed through 
this Way of Education, but must have seen an ingenuous 
Creature expiring with Shame, with pale Looks, beseeching 



474 THE SPECTATOR No, Thursday, Aug. ^0,1711 

Sorrow, and silent Tears, throw up its honest Eyes, and kneel 
on its tender Knees to an inexorable Blockhead, to be forgiven 
the false Quantity of a Word in making a Latin Verse: The 
Child is punished, and the next Day he commits a like Crime, 
and so a third with the same Consequence. I would fain ask 
any reasonable Man whether this Lad, in the Simplicity of his 
native Innocence, full of Shame, and capable of any Impression 
from that Grace of Soul, was not fitter for any Purpose in this 
Life, than after that Spark of Virtue is extinguished in him, 
tho' he is able to write twenty Verses in an Evening? 

Seneca says, after his exalted Way of talking. As the im- 
mortal Gods never learnt any Virtue, tho* they are endued with all 
that is good: so there are some Men who have so natural a Pro¬ 
pensity to what they should follow, that they learn it almost as soon 
as they hear it. Plants and Vegetables are cultivated into the 
Production of finer Fruit than they would yield without that 
Care; and yet we cannot entertain Hopes of producing a tender 
conscious Spirit into Acts of Virtue, without the same Methods 
as is used to cut Timber, or give new Shape to a Piece of Stone. 

It is wholly to this dreadful Practice that we may attribute 
a certain Hardness and Ferocity which some Men, tho' liber¬ 
ally educated, carry about them in all their Behaviour. To be 
bred like a Gentleman, and punished like a Malefactor, must, 
as we see it does, produce that illiberal Sauciness which we see 
sometimes in Men of Letters. 

The Spartan Boy who suffered the Fox (which he had stolen 
and hid under his Coat) to eat into his Bowels, I dare say had 
not half the Wit or Petulance which we learn at great Schools 
among us: But the glorious Sense of Honour, or rather Fear of 
Shame, which he demonstrated in that Action, was worth all 
the Learning in the World without it. 

It is methinks a very melancholy Consideration, that a little 
Negligence can spoil us, but great Industry is necessary to 
improve us; the most excellent Natures are soon depreciated, 
but evil Tempers are long before they are exalted into good 
Habits. To help this by Punishments, is the same thing as 
killing a Man to cure him of a Distemper; when he comes to 
suffer Punishment in that one Circumstance, he is brought 
below the Existence of a rational Creature, and is in the State 
of a Brute that moves only by the Admonition of Stripes. But 
since this Custom of educating by the Lash is suffered by the 
Gentry of Great Britain, I would prevail only that honest heavy 
Lads may be dismissed from Slavery sooner than they are at 
present, and not whipped on’to their fourteenth or fifteenth 
Year, whether they expect any Progress from them or not. 
Let the Child's Capacity be forthwith examined, and he sent 



No. i$y. Thursday, Aug.ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 475 

to some Mechanick Way of Life, without Respect to his Birth, 
if Nature design’d him for nothing higher; let him go before 
he has innocently suffered, and is debased into a Dereliction of 
Mind for being what it is no Guilt to be, a plain Man. I would 
not here be supposed to have said, that our learned Men of 
either Robe who have been whipped at School, are not still 
Men of noble and liberal Minds; but I am sure they had been 
much more so than they are, had they never suffered that 
Infamy. 

But tho’ there is so little Care, as I have observed, taken, or 
Observation made of the natural Strain of Men, it is no small 
Comfort to me, as a Spectator, that there is any right Value 
set upon the bona Indoles of other Animals; as appears by the 
following Advertisement handed about the County of Lincoln, 
and subscribed by Enos Thomas, a Person whom I have not the 
Honour to know, but suppose to be profoundly learned in 
Horse-Flesh. 

A Chesnut Horse called Caesar, bred by ] ames Darcey, Esq; 
at Sedbury near Richmond in the County 0/York; his Grandam 
was his old royal Mare, and got by Blunderbuss, which was got 
by Hemsly Turk, and he got Mr. Courant’s Arabian, which got 
Mr. Minshul’s Jewstrump. Mr. Caesar sold him to a Nobleman 
{coming five Years old, when he had hut one Sweat) for three 
hundred Guineas. A Guinea a Leap and Trial, and a Shilling 
the Man. 

T Enos Thomas. 

No. 158. 

[STEELE.] Friday, August 31. 

. . . Nos haec novimus esse nihil. —Mart. 

Out of a firm Regard to Impartiality I print these Letters, 
let them make for me or not. 

* Mr. Spectator, 

I have observed ttirough the whole Course of your Rhap^ 
sodies, (as you once very well called them) you are very in¬ 
dustrious to overthrow all that many your Superiours who have 
gone before you have made their Rule of writing. I am now 
between fifty and sixty, and had the Honour to be well with 
the first Men of Taste and Gallantry in the joyous Reign of 
Charles the Second: We then had, I humbly presume, as good 
Understandings among us as any now can pretend to. As for 
your self, Mr. Spectator, you seem with the utmost Arrogance 



476 THE SPECTATOR No. 158. Friday, Aug. 31, 1711 

to undermine the very Fundamentals upon which we con¬ 
ducted our selves. It is monstrous to set up for a Man of Wit, 
and yet deny that Honour in a Woman is any thing else but 
Peevishness, that Inclination is the best Rule of Life, or Virtue 
and Vice any thing else but Health and Disease. We had no 
more to do but to put a Lady in good Humour, and all we 
could wish followed of Course. Then again, your Tully, and 
your Discourses of another Life, are the very Bane of Mirth and 
good Humour. Prithee don’t value thy self on thy Reason 
at that exorbitant Rate, and the Dignity of humane Nature; 
take my Word for it, a Setting-dog has as good Reason as any 
Man in England. Had you (as by your Diumals one would 
think you do) set up for being in vogue in Town, you should 
have fallen in with the Bent of Passion and Appetite; your 
Songs had then been in every pretty Mouth in England, and 
your little Distichs had been the Maxims of the Fair and the 
Witty to walk by: But alas. Sir, what can you hope for from 
entertaining People with what must needs make them like 
themselves worse than they did before they read you ? Had 
you made it your Business to describe Corinna charming, 
though inconstant; to find something in humane Nature it 
self to make Zoilus excuse himself for being fond of her; and 
to make every Man in good Commerce with his own Reflec¬ 
tions, you had done something worthy our Applause; but 
indeed, Sir, we shall not commend you for disapproving us. I 
have a great deal more to say to you, but I shall sum it up all 
in this one Remark, In short. Sir, you do not write like a 
Gentleman. 

I am, 

Sir, 

Your most humble Servant.* 


'Mr. Spectator, 

The other Day we were several of us at a Tea-Table, and 
according to Custom and your own Advice had the Spectator 
read among us: It was that Paper wherein you are pleased to 
treat with great Freedom that Character which you call a 
Woman’s Man. We gave up all the Kinds you have men¬ 
tioned, except those who, you say, are our constant Visitants. 
1 was upon the Occasion commissioned by the Company to 
write to you, and tell you. That we shall not part with the Men 
we have at present, till the Men of Sense think fit to relieve 
them, and give us their Company in their Stead. You cannot 
imagine but that we love to hear Reason and good Sense better 
than the Ribaldry we are at present entertained with; but we 
must have Company, and among us very inconsiderable is 



No. 158. Friday, Aug. 31, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 477 

better than none at all. We are made for the Cements of 
Society, and came into the World to create Relations among 
Mankind; and Solitude is an unnatural Being to us. If the 
Men of good Understanding would forget a little of their 
Severity, they would find their Account in it; and their Wisdom 
would have a Pleasure in it, to which they are now Strangers. 
It is natural among us, when Men have a true Relish of our 
Company and our Value, to say every thing with a better 
Grace; and there is without designing it sometliing ornamental 
in what Men utter before Women, which is lost or neglected 
in Conversations of Men only. Give me Leave to tell you Sir, 
it would do you no great Harm if you your self came a little 
more into our Company; it would certainly cure you of a 
certain positive and determining Manner in which you talk 
sometimes. In hopes of your Amendment, 

I am. 

Sir, 

Your gentle Reader.' 


'Mr. Spectator, 

Your professed Regard to the fair Sex, may perhaps make 
them value your Admonitions when they will not those of other 
Men. I desire you, Sir, to repeat some Lectures upon Subjects 
which you have now and then in a cursory Manner only just 
touched. I would have a Spectator wholly writ upon good 
Breeding; and after you have asserted that Time and Place 
are to be very much considered in all our Actions, it will be 
proper to dwell upon Behaviour at Church. On Sunday last a 
grave and reverend Man preached at our Church: There was 
something particular in his Accent, but without any Manner 
of Affectation. This Particularity a Set of Gigglers thought 
the most necessary thing to be taken Notice of in his whole 
Discourse, and made it an Occasion of Mirth during the whole 
Time of Sermon: You should see one of them ready to burst 
behind a Fan, another pointing to a Companion in another 
Seat, and a fourth with an arch Composure, as if she would if 
possible stifle her Laughter. There were many Gentlemen who 
looked at them stedfastly, but this they took for ogling and 
admiring them: There was one of the merry ones in particular, 
that found out but just then that she had but five Fingers, for 
she fell a reckoning the pretty Pieces of Ivory over and over 
again, to find her self Employment and not laugh out. Would 
it not be expedient, Mr. Spectator, that the Church-Warden 
should hold up his Wand on these Occasions, and keep the 
Decency of the Place as a Magistrate does the Peace in a 
Tumult elsewhere?' 



478 THE SPECTATOR No. 158. Friday, Aug. 31, lyii 
'Mr. Spectator, 

I am a Woman's Man, and read with a very fine Lady your 
Paper wherein you fall upon us whom you envy: What do you 
think I did? you must know she was dressing, I read the 
Spectator to her, and she laughed at the Places where she 
thought I was touched; I threw away your Moral, and taking 
up her Girdle cryed out. 

Give me hut what this Ribbon hound. 

Take all the rest the Sun goes round. 

She smiled, Sir, and said you were a Pedant; so say of me 
what you please, read Seneca, and quote him against me if you 
think fit. 

/ am, 

Sir, 

T Your humble Servant.’ 

No. 159. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, September i. 

. . . Omnem, quae nunc obducta tuenti 
Mortales hebctat visus tibi, 6* humida circum 
Caligat, nubem eripiam . . . —Virg. 

When I was at Grand Cairo I picked up several Oriental Manu¬ 
scripts, w'hich I have still by me. Among others I met with 
one, entitulcd The Visions of Mirzah, which I have read over 
with great Pleasure. I intend to give it to the Publick when T 
have no other Entertainment for them; and shall begin with 
the first Vision, which I have translated Word for Word as 
follow's. 

‘On the fifth Day of the Moon, which according to the 
Custom of my Forefathers I always keep holy, after having 
washed my self and offered up my Morning Devotions, I as¬ 
cended the high Hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the 
Day in Meditation and Prayer. As I was here airing my self 
on the Tops of the Mountains, I fell into a profound Contem¬ 
plation on the Vanity of humane Life; and passing from one 
Thought to another. Surely, said I, Man is but a Shadow and 
Life a Dream. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my Eyes 
towards the Summit of a Rock that was not far from me, where 
I discovered one in the Habit of a Shepherd, with a little 
Musical Instrument in his Hand. As I looked upon him he 
applied it to his Lips, and began to play upon it. The Sound 
01 it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a Variety of Tunes 



No. 159. Saturday, Sept. 1, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 479 

that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different 
from any thing I had ever heard. They put me in mind of 
those heavenly Airs that are played to the departed Souls of 
good Men upon their first Arrival in Paradise, to wear out the 
Impressions of the last Agonies, and qualify them for the 
Pleasures of that happy Place. My Heart melted away in 
secret Raptures. 

I had been often told that the Rock before me was the 
Haunt of a Genius; and that several had been entertained with 
Musick who had passed by it, but never heard that the Musician 
had before made himself visible. When he had raised iny 
Thoughts, by those transporting Airs which he played, to taste 
the Pleasures of his Conversation, as I looked upon him like 
one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his 
Hand directed me to approach the Place where he sat. I drew 
near with that Reverence which is due to a superior Nature; 
and as my Heart was entirely subdued by the captivating 
Strains I had heard, I fell down at his Feet and vrept. The 
Genius smiled upon me with a Look of Compassion and Afia- 
bility that familiarized him to my Imagination, and at once 
dispelled all the Fears and Apprehensions with which I 
approached him. He lifted me from the Ground, and taking 
me by the Hand, Mirzah, said he, I have heard thee in thy 
Soliloquies, follow me. 

He then led me to the highest Pinnacle of the Rock, and 
placing me on the Top of it. Cast thy Eyes Eastw’ard, said he, 
and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge Valley and 
a prodigious Tide of Water rolling through it. The Valley 
that thou seest, said he, is the Vale of Misery, and the Tide of 
Water that thou seest is Part of the great Tide of Eternity. 
What is the Reason, said I, that the Tide I see rises out of a 
thick Mist at one End, and again loses it self in a thick Mist 
at the other? What thou seest, said he, is that Portion of 
Eternity which is called Time, measured out by the Sun, and 
reaching from the Beginning of the World to its Consummation. 
Examine now, said he, this Sea that is bounded with Darkness 
at both Ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a 
Bridge, said I, standing in the Midst of the Tide. The Bridge 
thou seest, said he, is humane Life; consider it attentively. 
Upon a more leisurely Survey of it, I found that it consisted of 
threescore and ten entire Arches, with several broken Arches, 
which added to those that were entire, made up the Number 
about an hundred. As I was counting the Arches, the Genius 
told me that this Bridge consisted at first of a thousand Arches; 
but that a great Flood swept away the rest, and left the Bridge 
in the ruinous Condition I now beheld it. But tell me further. 



480 THE SPECTATOR No. 159. Saturday, Sept, 1, 1711 

said he, what thou discoverest on it. I see Multitudes of 
People passing over it, said I, and a black Cloud hanging on 
each End of it. As I looked more attentively, I saw several 
of the Passengers dropping thro* the Bridge, into the great 
Tide that flowed underneath it; and upon further Examina¬ 
tion, perceived there were innumerable Trap-doors that lay 
concealed in the Bridge^ which the Passengers no sooner 
trod upon, but they fell through them into the Tide and 
immediately disappeared. These hidden Pit-falls were set very 
thick at the Entrance of the Bridge, so that Throngs of People 
no sooner broke through the Cloud, but many of them fell into 
them. They grew thinner towards the Middle, but multiplied 
and lay closer together towards the End of the Arches that 
were entire. 

There were indeed some Persons, but their Number was very 
small, that continued a kind of hobbling March on the broken 
Arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired 
and spent with so long a Walk. 

I passed some Time in the Contemplation of this wonderful 
Structure, and the great Variety of Objects which it presented. 
My Heart was filled with a deep Melancholy to see several 
dropping unexpectedly in the Midst of Mirth and Jollity, and 
catching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. 
Some were looking up towards the Heavens in a thoughtful 
Posture, and in the Midst of a Speculation stumbled and fell 
out of Sight. Multitudes were very busy in the Pursuit of 
Bubbles that glittered in their Eyes and danced before them, 
but often when they thought themselves within the Reach of 
them their Footing failed and down they sunk. In this Con¬ 
fusion of Objects, I observed some with Scymetars in their 
Hands, and others with Urinals, who ran to and fro upon the 
Bridge, thrusting several Persons on Trap-doors which did not 
seem to lie in their Way, and which they might have escaped 
had they not been thus forced upon them. 

The Genius seeing me indulge my self in this melancholy 
Prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it: Take thine 
Eyes ofi the Bridge, said he, and tell me if thou yet seest any 
thing thou dost not comprehend. Upon looking up. What 
mean, said I, those great Flights of Birds that are perpetually 
hovering about the Bridge, and settling upon it from Time to 
Time? I see Vultures, Harpyes, Ravens, Cormorants; and 
among many other feathered Creatures several little winged 
Boys, that perch in great Numbers upon the middle Arches. 
These said the Genius, are Envy, Avarice, Superstition, Despair, 
Love, with'the like Cares and Passions that infest humane 
Life. 



No. 159. Saturday, Sept, i, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 481 

I here fetched a deep Sigh. Alas, said I, Man was made in 
vain! How is he given away to Misery and Mortality! tor¬ 
tured in Life, and swallowed up in Death! The Genius being 
moved with Compassion towards me, bid me quit so uncomfort¬ 
able a Prospect: Look no more, said he, on Man in the first Stage 
of his Existence, in his setting out for Eternity; but cast thine 
Eye on that thick Mist into which the Tide bears the several 
Generations of Mortals that fall into it. I directed my Sight 
as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good Genius streng¬ 
thened it with any supernatural Force, or dissipated Part of 
the Mist that was before too thick for the Eye to penetrate) I 
saw the Valley opening at the further End, and spreading forth 
into an immense Ocean, that had a huge Rock of Adamant 
running through the Midst of it, and dividing it into two equal 
Parts. The Clouds still rested on one Half of it, insomuch that 
I could discover nothing in it; but the other appeared to me 
a vast Ocean planted with innumerable Islands, that were 
covered with Fruits and Flowers, and interwoven with a 
thousand little shining Seas that ran among them. I could see 
Persons dressed in glorious Habits, with Garlands upon their 
Heads, passing among the Trees, lying down by the Sides of 
Fountains, or resting on Beds of Flowers; and could hear a 
confused Harmony of singing Birds, falling Waters, humane 
Voices, and musical Instruments. Gladness grew in me upon 
the Discovery of so delightful a Scene. I wished for the Wings 
of an Eagle, that I might fly away to those happy Scats; but 
the Genius told me there was no Passage to them, except 
through the Gates of Death that I saw opening every Moment 
upon the Bridge. The Islands, said he, that lie so fresh and 
green before thee, and with which the whole Face of the Ocean 
appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in Number 
than the Sands on the Sea-shore; there are Myriads of Islands 
behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching further than 
thine Eye or even thine Imagination can extend it self. These 
are the Mansions of good Men after Death, who according to 
the Degree and Kinds of Virtue in which they excelled, are dis¬ 
tributed among these several Islands, which abound with 
Pleasures of different Kinds and Degrees, suitable to the 
Relishes and Perfections of those who are settled in them; 
every Island is a Paradise accommodated to its respective In¬ 
habitants. Are not these, O Mirzah, Habitations worth con¬ 
tending for? Does Life appear miserable, that gives thee 
Opportunities of earning such a Reward? Is Death to be 
feared, that will convey thee to so happy an Existence ? Think 
not Man was made in vain, who has such an Eternity reserved 
for him. I gazed with inexpressible Pleasure on these happy 



482 THE SPECTATOR No. 159. Saturday, Sept, i, 1711 

Islands. At length, said I, shew me now, I beseech thee, the 
Secrets that lie hid under those dark Clouds which cover the 
Ocean on the other Side of the Rock of Adamant. The Genius 
making me no Answer, I turned about to address my self to 
him a second time, but I found that he had left me; I then 
turned again to the Vision which I had been so long contem¬ 
plating, but instead of the rolling Tide, the arched Bridge, and 
the happy Islands, I saw nothing but the long hollow Valley 
of Bagdat, with Oxen, Sheep, and Camels grazing upon the 
Sides of it. 


The End of the first Vision of Mirzah. C 


No. 160. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, September 3. 

. . . Cut mens divinior, atque os 

Magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem. —Hor. 

There is no Character more frequently given to a Writer, than 
that of being a Genius. I have heard many a little Sonneteer 
called a fine Genius. There is not an Heroick Scribler in the 
Nation, that has not his Admirers who think him a great 
Genius] and as for your Smatterers in Tragedy, there i scarce 
a Man among them who is not cried up by one or other for a 
prodigious Genius. 

My Design in this Paper is to consider what is properly a 
great Genius, and to throw some Thoughts together on so 
uncommon a Subject. 

Among great Genius’s, those few draw the Admiration of all 
the World upon them, and stand up as the Prodigies of Man¬ 
kind, who by the mere Strength of natural Parts, and without 
any Assistance of Art or Learning, have produced Works that 
were the Delight of their own Times and the Wonder of Pos¬ 
terity. There appears something nobly wild and extravagant 
in these great natural Genius's, that is infinitely more beautiful 
than all the Turn and Polishing of what the French call a Bel 
Esprit, by which they would express a Genius refined by 
Conversation, Reflection, and the Reading of the most polite 
Authors. The greatest Genius which runs through the Arts 
and Sciences, takes a kind of Tincture from them, and falls 
unavoidably into Imitation. 

Many of these great natural Genius’s that were never dis¬ 
ciplined and broken by Rules of Art, are to be found among the 



No. 160. Monday, Sept. 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 483 

Ancients, and in particular among those of the more Eastern 
Parts of the World. Homer has innumerable Flights that 
Virgil was not able to reach, and in the Old Testament we find 
several Passages more elevated and sublime than any in Homer. 
At the same Time that we allow a greater and more daring 
Genius to the Ancients, we must own that the greatest of them 
very much failed in, or, if you will, that they were much above 
the Nicety and Correctness of the Moderns. In their Simili¬ 
tudes and Allusions, provided there was a Likeness, they did 
not much trouble themselves about the Decency of the Com¬ 
parison: Thus Solomon resembles the Nose of his Beloved to 
the Tower of Libanon which looketh toward Damascus ; as the 
Coming of a Thief in the Night, is a Similitude of the same 
Kind in the New Testament. It would be endless to make 
Collections of this Nature: Homer illustrates one of his Heroes 
encompassed with the Enemy, by an Ass in a Fic‘ld erf Corn that 
has his Sides belaboured by all the Boys of the Village without 
stirring a Foot for it; and another of them tossing to and fro 
in his Bed and burning with Resentment, to a Piece of Flesh 
broiled on the Coals. This particular Failure in the Ancients, 
opens a large Field of Raillerie to the little Wits, who can 
laugh at an Indecency but not relish the Sublime in these Sorts 
of Writings. The present Emperor of Persia, conformable to 
this Eastern way of Thinking, amidst a great many pompous 
Titles, denominates himself the Sun of Glory, and the Nutmeg 
of Delight. In short, to cut off all Cavelling against the 
Ancients, and particularly those of the warmer Climates, who 
had most Heat and Life in their Imaginations, we are to con¬ 
sider that the Rule of observing what the French call the 
Bienseance in an Allusion, has been found out of latter Years 
and in the colder Regions of the World; where we would make 
some Amends for our want of Force and Spirit, by a scrupulous 
Nicety and Exactness in our Compositions. Our Countiyman 
Shakespear was a remarkable Instance of this first kind of great 
Genius's. 

I cannot quit this Head without observing that Pindar was 
a great Genius of the first Class, who was hurried on by a 
Natural Fire and Impetuosity to vast Conceptions of things, 
and noble Sallies of Imagination. At the same time, can any 
thing be more ridiculous than for Men of a sober and moderate 
Fancy to imitate this Poet's Way of Writing in those mon¬ 
strous Compositions which go among us under the Name of 
Pindaricks? When I see People copying Works, which, as 
Horace has represented them, are singular in their Kind and 
inimitable; when I see Men following Irregularities by Rule, 
and by the little Tricks of Art straining after the most 



484 THE SPECTATOR No. 160. Monday, Sept. 3, 1711 

unbounded Flights of Nature, I cannot but apply to them that 
Passage in Terence. 

. . . incerta haec si tu postules 

Rntione certa facere, nihilo plus agas. 

QiAum si des operam, ut cum ratione insanias. 

In short a modern Pindarick Writer compared with Pindar, 
is like a Sister among the Camisars compared with Virgil’s 
Sybil: There is the Distortion, Grimace, and outward Figure, 
but nothing of that divine Impulse which raises the Mind above 
it self, and makes the Sounds more than humane. 

There is another kind of Great Genius's which I shall place 
in a second Class, not as I think them inferior to the first, but 
only for distinction’s sake as they are of a different kind. This 
second Class of great Genius's are those that have formed 
themselves by Rules, and submitted the Greatness of their 
natural Talents to the Corrections and Restraints of Art. Such 
among the Greeks were Plato and A ristotle, among the Romans 
Virgil and Tully, among the English Milton and Sir Francis 
Bacon. 

The Genius in both these Classes of Authors may be equally 
great, but shews it self after a different Manner. In the first 
it is like a rich Soil in a happy Climate, that produces a whole 
Wilderness of noble Plants rising in a thousand beautiful 
Landskips without any certain Order or Regularity. In the 
other it is the same rich Soil under the same happy Climate, 
that has been laid out in Walks and Parterres, and cut into 
Shape and Beauty by the Skill of the Gardener. 

The great Danger in these latter kind of Genius's, is, least 
they cramp their own Abilities too much by Imitation, and 
form themselves altogether upon Models, without giving the 
full Play to their own natural Parts. An Imitation of the best 
Authors is not to compare with a good Original; and I believe 
we may observe that very few Writers make an extraordinary 
Figure in the World, who have not something in their Way of 
thinking or expressing themselves that is peculiar to them and 
entirely their own. 

It is odd to consider what great Genius's are sometimes 
thrown away upon Trifles. 

I once saw a Shepherd, says a famous Italian Author, who 
used to divert himself in his Solitudes with tossing up Eggs and 
catching them again without breaking them: In which he had 
arrived to so great a Degree of Perfection, that he would keep 
up four at a Time for several 'Minutes together playing in the 
Air, and falling into his Hand by Turns. I think, says the 
Author, I never saw a greater Severity than in this Man’s Face; 



No. i6o. Monday, Sept. 3, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 485 

for by his wonderful Perseverance and Application, he had 
contracted the Seriousness and Gravity of a Privy-Councellour; 
and I could not but reflect with niy self, that the same Assiduity 
and Attention, had they been ri^^htly applied, might have made 
him a greater Mathematician than Archimedes. 

C 


No. 161. 

[BUDGELL.] Tuesday, Sei>tenibcr 4. 

ipse dies agitat festos; fususque per herbam. 

Ignis ubi in medio <S* socii cratera coronant, 

Te libans, Lenaee, voca^; peconsque magisiris 
Velocis jaculi certamina ponii in ulmo: 

Corpora^ue agresti nudat praedura palaestra, 

Hanc ohm veteres vitam coluere Sabini, 

Hanc Remus 6- frater: sic foriis Etruria crevit, 

Scilicet <&• rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma .— Virg. G. 2. 

I AM glad that my late going into the Country has encreased 
the Number of my Correspondents, one of whom sends me the 
following Letter. 

‘Sir, 

Though you are pleased to retire from us so soon into the 
City, I hope you will not think the Affairs of the Country alto¬ 
gether unworthy of your Inspection for the Future. I had the 
Honour of seeing your short Face at Sir Roger de Coverley's, 
and have ever since thought your Person and Writings both 
extraordinary. Had you stayed there a few Days longer you 
would have seen a Country Wake, which you know in most 
PaiTs of England is the Eve-Feast of the Dedication of our 
Churches. I was last Week at one of these Assemblies, which 
was held in a neighbouring Parish, where I found their Green 
covered with a promiscuous Multitude of all Ages and both 
Sexes, who esteem one another more or less the following Part 
of the Year according as they distinguish themselves at tliis 
Time. The whole Company were in their Holy-day Cloaths, 
and divided into several Parties, all of them endeavouring to 
shew themselves in those Exercises wherein they excelled, and 
to gain the Approbation of the Lookers on. 

I found a Ring of Cudgel-Players, who were breaking one 
another's Heads in order to make some impression on their 
Mistresses' Hearts. I observed a lusty young Fellow who had 
the Misfortune of a broken Pate; but what considerably added 
to the Anguish of the Wound, was his over-hearing an old Man, 



486 THE SPECTATOR No. i6i. Tuesday, Sept. 4, 1711 

who shook his Head and said, That he questioned now if black 
Kate would marry him these three Years. I was diverted from a 
further Observation of these Combatants, by a Foot ball Match 
which was on the other side of the Green \ where Tom Short 
behaved himself so well, that most People seemed to agree it 
was impossible that he should remain a Batchelour till the next 
Wake. Having played many a Match my self, I could have 
looked longer on this Sport, had I not observed a Country Girl 
who was posted on an Eminence at some Distance from me, 
and was making so many odd Grimaces, and writhing and dis¬ 
torting her whole Body in so strange a Manner, as made me 
very desirous to know the Meaning of it. Upon my coming 
up to her, I found that she was over-looking a Ring of Wrestlers, 
and that her Sweet-heart, a Person of small Stature, was con¬ 
tending with an huge brawny Fellow, who twirled him about, 
and shook the little Man so violently, that by a secret Sym¬ 
pathy of Hearts it produced all those Agitations in the Person 
of his Mistress, who I dare say, like Caelia in Shakespear on the 
same Occasion, could have wished herself invisible to catch the 
strong Fellow by the Leg. The Squire of the Parish treats the 
whole Company every Year with a Hogshead of Ale; and pro¬ 
poses a Beaver Hat as a Recompence to him who gives most 
Falls. This has raised such a Spirit of Emulation in the Youth 
of the Place, that some of them have rendered themselves very 
expert at this Exercise; and I was often surprized to see a 
Fellow’s Heels fly up, by a Trip which was given him so smartly 
that I could scarce discern it. I found that the old Wrestlers 
seldom enter'd the Ring, till some one was grown formidable 
by having thrown two or three of his Opponents; but kept 
themselves as it were in ar reserved Body to defend the Hat, 
which is always hung up by the Person who gets it in one of the 
most conspicuous Parts of the House, and looked upon by the 
whole Family as something redounding much more to their 
Honour than a Coat of Arms. There was a Fellow who was 
so busy in regulating all the Ceremonies, and seemed to carry 
such an Air of Importance in his Looks, that I could not help 
inquiring who he was; and was immediately answer’d, That he 
did not value himself upon nothing, for that he and his A ncestors 
had won so many Hats, that his Parlour looked like a Haber¬ 
dasher* s Shop: However this Thirst of Glory in them all, was 
the Reason that no one Man stood Lord of the Ring for above 
three Falls while I was amongst them. 

The young Maids, who were not Lookers on at these Exer¬ 
cises, were ,themselves engaged in some Diversion; and upon 
my asking a Farmer's Son of my own Parish what he was 
gazing at with so much Attention, he told me, That he was 



No. i6i. Tuesday, Sept. 4, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 487 

seeing Betty Welch, whom I knew to be his Sweet-heart* 
pitch a Bar. 

In short, I found the Men endeavour'd to shew the Women 
they were no Cowards, and that the whole Company strived 
to recommend themselves to each other, by making it appear 
that tliey were all in a perfect State of Health, and fit to 
undergo any Fatigues of bodily Labour. 

Your Judgment upon this Method of Love and Gallantry, as 
it is at present practised amongst us in the Country, will very 
much oblige, 

Sir, 

Yours, &c.' 

If I would here put on the Scholar and Politician, I might 
inform my Readers how these bodily Exercises or Games were 
formerly encouraged in all the Commonwealths of Greece; 
from whence the Romans afterwards borrow'd their Pentath- 
lum, which was compos'd of Running, Wrestling, Leaping, 
Throwing, and Boxing, tho’ the Prizes were generally nothing 
but a Crown of Cypress or Parsley, Hats not being in fashion 
in those Days; That there is an old Statute, which obliges 
every Man in England, having such an Estate, to keep and 
exercise the long Bow; by which Means our Ancestors excelled 
all other Nations in the Use of that Weapon, and we had all 
the real Advantages, without the Inconvenience of a standing 
Army: And that I once met with a Book of Projects, in which 
the Author considering to what noble Ends that Spirit of 
Emulation, which so remarkably shews it self among our 
common People in these Wakes, might be directed, proposes 
that for the Improvement of all our handicraft Trades there 
should be annual Prizes set up for such Persons as were most 
excellent in their several Arts. But laying aside all these 
political Considerations, which might tempt me to pass the 
Limits of my Paper, I confess the greatest Benefit and Con¬ 
venience that I can observe in these Country Festivals, is the 
bringing young People together, and giving them an Oppor¬ 
tunity of shewing themselves in the most advantageous Light. 
A Country Fellow that throws his Rival upon his Back, has 
generally as good Success with their common Mistress; as 
nothing is more usual than for a nimble-footed Wench to get a 
Husband at the same Time she wins a Smock. Love and 
Marriages are the natural Efiects of these anniversary Assem¬ 
blies. I must therefore very much approve the Method by 
which my Correspondent tells me each Sex endeavours to 
recommend it self to the other, since nothing'seems more 
likely to promise a healthy Ofispring or a happy Cohabitation.. 



488 THE SPECTATOR No. i6i. Tuesday, Sept. 4, 1711 

And I believe I may assure my Country Friend, that there has 
been many a Court Lady who would be contented to exchange 
her crazy young Husband for Tom Short, and several Men of 
Quality who would have parted with a tender Yoke-fellow for 
Black Kate. 

I am the more pleased with having Love made the principal 
End and Design of these Meetings, as it seems to be most 
agreeable to the Intent for which they were at first instituted, 
as we are informed by the learned Dr. Kennct, with whose 
Words I shall conclude my present Paper. 

These Wakes, says he, were in Imitation of the ancient dydrai, 
or Love-feasts: and were first established in England by Pope 
Gregory the Great, who in an Epistle to Melitiis the Abbot, gave 
Order that they should be kept in Sheds or Arbories made up with 
Branches and Boughs of Trees round the Church. 

He adds. That this laudable Custom of Wakes prevailed for 
many Ages, till the nice Puritans began to exclaim against it as 
a Remnant of Popery: and by Degrees the precise Humour grew 
so popular, that at an Exeter Assizes the Lord Chief Baron 
Walter made an Order for the Suppression of all Wakes: hut on 
Bishop Laud's complaining of this innovating Humour, the King 
commanded the Order to be reversed. X 


No. 162. 

[ADDISON.] Wednesday, September 5. 

. . . Servetur ad imum, 

Qualis ah incepto processerit, & sibi constet. —Hor. 

Nothing that is not a real Crime makes a Man appear so 
contemptible and little in the Eyes of the World as Incon¬ 
stancy, especially when it regards Religion or Party. In either 
of these Cases, tho' a Man perhaps does but his Duty in 
changing his Side, he not only makes himself hated by those 
he left, but is seldom heartily esteemed by those he comes 
over to. 

In these great Articles of Life therefore a Man’s Conviction 
ought to be very strong, and if possible so well timed that 
worldly Advantages may seem to have no Share in it, or Man¬ 
kind will be ill-natured enough to think he does not change 
Sides out of Principle, but either out of Levity of Temper or 
Prospects of Interest. Converts and Renegadoes of all kinds 
should take particular care to let the World see they act 
upon honourable Motives; or whatever Approbations they may 
receive from themselves, and Applauses from those they con* 



No. 162. Wednesday, Sept. 5, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 489 

verse with, they raay be very well assured that they are the 
Scorn of all good Men, and the publick Marks of Infamy and 
Derision. 

Irresolution on the Schemes of Life which offer themselves 
to our Choice, and Inconstancy in pursuing them, are the 
greatest and most universal Causes of all our Disquiet 
and Unhappiness. When Ambition pulls one Way, Interest 
another. Inclination a third, and perhaps Reason contrary to 
all, a Man is likely to pass his Time but ill who has so manj^ 
different Parties to please. When the Mind hovers among 
such a Variety of Allurements, one had better settle on a Way 
of Life that is not the very best we might have chosen, thftin 
grow old without determining our Choice, and go out of the 
World as the greatest Part of Mankind do, before we have 
resolved how to live in it. There is but one Method of setting 
our selves at Rest in this Particular, and that is by adhering 
stedfastly to one great End as the chief and ultimate Aim of 
all our Pursuits. If we are firmly resolved to live up to the 
Dictates of Reason, without any Regard to Wealth, Reputa¬ 
tion, or the like Considerations, any more than as they fall in 
with our principal Design, we may go through Life with 
Steddiness and Pleasure; but if we act by several broken 
Views, and will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, 
and every thing that has a Value set upon it by the World, we 
shall live and die in Misery and Repentance. 

One would take more than ordinary Care to guard one's self 
against this particular Imperfection, because it is that which 
our Nature very .strongly inclines us to; for if we examine our 
selves throughly, we shall find that we are the most changeable 
Beings in the Universe. In Respect of our Understanding, 
we often embrace and reject the very same Opinions; whereas 
Beings above and beneath us have probably no Opinions at all, 
or at least no Wavering and Uncertainties in those they have. 
Our Superiours are guided by Intuition, and our Inferiours by 
Instinct. In Respect of our Wills, we fall into Crimes and 
recover out of them, are amiable or odious in the Eyes of our 
great Judge, and pass our whole Life in offending and asking 
Pardon. On the contrary, the Beings underneath us are not 
capable of sinning, nor those above us of repenting. The one 
is out of the Possibilities of Duty, and the other fixed in an 
eternal Course of Sin, or an eternal Course of Virtue. 

There is scarce a State of Life, or Stage in it, which does not 
produce Changes and Revolutions in the Mind of Man. Our 
Schemes of Thought in Infancy are lost in those of Youth; 
these two take a different Turn in Manhood, till o 4 d Age often 
leads us back into our former Infancy. A new Title or an 



490 THE SPECTATOR No. 162. Wednesday, Sept, $, ij 11 

unexpected Success throws us out of ourselves, and in a Manner 
destroys our Identity. A cloudy Day or a little Sun-shine 
have as great an Influence on many Constitutions, as the most 
real Blessings or Misfortunes. A Dream varies our Being, and 
changes our Condition while it lasts; and every Passion, not 
to mention Health and Sickness, and the greater Alterations 
in Body and Mind, makes us appear almost different Creatures. 
If a Man is so distinguished among other Beings by this In- 
^rmity, what can we think of such as make themselves re¬ 
markable for it even among their own Species? It is a very 
trifling Cliaracter to be one of the most variable Beings of the 
most variable Kind, especially if we consider that he who is 
the great Standard of Perfection has in him no Shadow of 
Change, but is the same Yesterday, to Day, and for ever. 

As this Mutability of Temper and Inconsistency with ou^ 
selves is the greatest Weakness of humane Nature, so it makes 
the Person who is remarkable for it in a very particular 
Manner more ridiculous than any other Infirmity whatsoever, 
as it sets him in a greater Variety of foolish Lights, and dis¬ 
tinguishes him from himself by an Opposition of party- 
coloured Characters. The most humourous Character in 
Horace is founded upon this Unevenness of Temper and 
Irregularity of Conduct. 

. . . Sardus hahehat 

llle Tigellius hoc. Caesar qui cogcre posset 
Si peteret per amicUiam patris atque suam, non 
Quidquam proficeret; Si collibuisset, ab ovo 
Usque ad mala citaret lo Bacche, modo summa 
Voce, modo hac, resonat quae chordis quatuor inia. 

Nil aequale homini fuit illi: Saepe velut qui 
Currebat fugiens hostem ; persaepe velut qui 
Junonis sacra ferret, Habebat saepe ducentos, 

Saepe decern servos. Modo reges atque tetrarchas, 

Omnia magna loquens. Modo, sit mihi mensa tripes, 6* 
Concha salis puri, toga, quae defendere frigus, 

Quamvis crassa, queat. Decies centena dedisses 
lJuic par CO paucis contento, quinque diebus 
Nil erat in loculis. Nodes vigilabai ad ipsum 
Mane: diem totam stertebat. Nil fuit unquam 
Sic impar sibi . . .—Hor. Sat. 3, Lib. i. 

Instead of translating this Passage in Horace^ I shall enter¬ 
tain my English Reader with the Description of a Parallel 
Character, that is wonderfully well finished by Mr. Dryden, 
and raised upon the same Foundation. 

In the first Rank ’of these did Zimri stand: 

• A Man so various, that he seem'd to be 
Not one, but all Mankind's Epitome. 



No. i62. Wednesday, Sept. 5, lyii THE SPECTATOR 491 

Stiff in Opinions, always in the wron^; 

Was every thing by Starts, and Nothing long 
But, in the Course of one revolving Moon, 

Was Chymist, Fidler, Statesman, and Buffoon: 

Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking; 

Besides ten thousand Freaks that dy’d in thinking. 

Blest Madman, who con’d every Hour employ. 

With something New to wish, or to enjoy! 


No. 163. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, September 6. 

... Si quid ego adjuero, curamve levasso. 

Quae nunc te coquit, versat in pectore fixa, 

Ecquid erit pretii? —Enn. ap, Tullium. 

Enquiries after Happiness, and Rules for attaining it, are 
not so necessary and useful to Mankind as the Arts of 
Consolation, and supporting one’s self under Affliction. The 
utmost we can hope for in this World is Contentment; if we 
aim at any thing higher, we shall meet with nothing but Grief 
and Disappointments. A man should direct all his Studies and 
Endeavours at making himself easie now, and happy hereafter. 

The Truth of it is, if all the Happiness that is dispersed 
through the whole Race of Mankind in this World were drawn 
together, and put into the Possession of any single Man, it 
would not make a very happy Being. Though, on the con¬ 
trary, if the Miseries of the whole Species were fixed in a single 
Person, they would make a very miserable one. 

I am engaged in this Subject by the following I^etter, which, 
though Subscribed by a fictitious Name, I have reason to 
believe is not Imaginary. 

‘Mr. Spectator, 

I am one of your Disciples, and endeavour to live up to your 
Rules, which I hope will encline you to pity my Condition: I 
shall open it to you in a very few Words. About three Years 
since a Gentleman, whom, I am sure, you your self would 
have approved, made his Addresses to me. He had every 
thing to recommend him but an Estate, so that my Friends, 
who all of them applauded his Person, would not for the sake 
of both of us favour his Passion. For my own part I resigned 
my self iip entirely to the Direction of those who knew the 
World much better than my self, but still lived in hopes that 
some Juncture or other would make me happy in thS Man whom, 
in my Heart, I preferred to all the World; being determined 



492 THE SPECTATOR No. 163. Thursday, Sept. 6, 1711 

if I could not have him to have no Body else. About three 
Months ago I received a Letter from him, acquainting me, 
that by the death of an Unkle he had a considerable Estate 
left him, which he said was welcome to him upon no other 
Account but as he hoped it would remove all Difficulties that 
lay in the Way to our mutual Happiness. You may well 
suppose, Sir, with how much Joy I received this Letter, which 
was followed by several others filled with those Expressions 
of Love and Joy, which I verily believe no Body felt more 
sincerely, nor knew better how to describe, than the Gentle¬ 
man I am speaking of. But, Sir, how shall I be able to tell it 
youl by the last Week’s Post I received a Letter from an 
intimate Friend of this unhappy Gentleman, acquainting me, 
that as he had just settled his Affairs, and was preparing for 
his Journey, he fell sick of a Fever and died. It is impossible 
to express to you the Distress I am in upon this Occasion. I 
can only have Recourse to my Devotions, and to the reading 
of good Books for my Consolation; and as I always take a 
particular Delight in those frequent Advices and Admonitions 
which you give the Publick, it would be a very great piece of 
Charity in you to lend me your Assistance in this Conjuncture. 
If after the reading of this Letter you find your self in a 
Humour rather to Rally and Ridicule, than to Comfort me, I 
desire you would throw it into the Fire, and think no more of 
it; but if you are touched with my Misfortune, which is greater 
than I know how to bear, your Counsels may very much 
Support, and will infinitely Oblige the afflicted 

LEONORA.^ 

A Disappointment in Love is more hard to get over than any 
other; the Passion it self so softens and subdues the Heart, 
that it disables it from struggling or bearing up against the 
Woes and Distresses which befal it. The Mind meets with 
other Misfortunes in her whole Strength; she stands collected 
within her self, and sustains the Shock with all the force which 
is natural to her; but a Heart in Love has its Foundations 
sapped, and immediately sinks under the Weight of Accidents 
that are disagreeable to its Favourite Passion. 

In Afflictions Men generally draw their Consolations out of 
Books of Morality, which indeed are of great use to fortifie 
and strengthen the Mind against the Impressions of Sorrow. 
Monsieur St. Evremont, who does not approve of this Method, 
recommends Authors who are apt to stir up Mirth in the Mind 
of the Readers, and fancies Don Quixote can give more Relief 
to an heavy Heart than Plutarch or Seneca, as it is much easier 
to divert Grief than to conquer it. This doubtless may have 



No. 163. Thursday, Sept. 6, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 493 

its Effects on some Tempers. I should rather have recourse 
to Authors of a quite contrary kind, that give us Instances of 
Calamities and Misfortunes, and shew Human Nature in its 
greatest Distresses. 

If the Affliction we groan under be very heavy, we shall find 
some Consolation in the Society of as great Sufferers as our 
selves, especially when we find our Companions Men of Virtue 
and Merit. If our Afflictions are light, we shall be comforted 
by the Comparison we make between our selves and our 
Fellow-Sufferers. A Lo.ss at Sea, a Fit of Sickness, or the 
Death of a Friend, are such Trifles when we consider whole 
Kingdoms laid in Ashes, Families put to the Sword, Wretches 
shut up in Dungeons, and the like Calamities of Mankind, that 
we are out of Countenance for our own Weakness, if we sink 
under such little Strokes of Fortune. 

Let the Disconsolate Leonora consider, that at the very time 
in which she languishes for the Loss of her Deceas'd Lover, 
there are Persons in several parts of the World just perishing 
in a Shipwreck; others crying out for Mercy in the Terrors of a 
Death-bed Repentance; others lying under the Tortures of an 
Infamous Execution, or the like dreadful Calamities; and she 
will find her Sorrows vanish at the appearance of those which 
are so much greater and more astonishing. 

I would further propose to the Consideration of my afflicted 
Disciple, that possibly what she now looks upon as the greatest 
Misfortune, is not really such in it self. For my own part, I 
question not but our Souls in a separate State will look back 
on their Lives in quite another View, than what they had of 
them in the Body; and that what they now consider as Mis¬ 
fortunes and Disappointments, will very often appear to have 
been Escapes and Blessings. 

The Mind that hath any Cast towards Devotion, naturally 
flies to it in its Afflictions. 

When I was in France I heard a very remarkable Story of 
two Lovers, which I shall relate at length in my to Morrow’s 
Paper, not only because the Circumstances of it are extra¬ 
ordinary, but because it may serve as an Illustration to all 
that can be said on this last Head, and shew the Power of 
Religion in abating that particular Anguish which seems to 
lie so heavy on Leonora. The Story was told me by a Priest, 
as I travelled with him in a Stage-Coach. I shall give it my 
Reader, as well as I can remember, in his own Words, after 
having premised, that if Consolations may be drawn from a 
wrong Religion and a misguided Devotion, they cannot but 
flow much more naturally from those which are founded upon 
Reason, and established in good Sense. 



494 the spectator No. 164. Friday, Sept. 7, 1711 
No. 164. 

[ADDISON.] Friday, September 7. 

Ilia, Quis & me, inquit, miseram, 6- te perdidit, Orpheu ? 

Jamque vale: feror ingenti circumdata node, 

Invalidasque tibi tendens, heul non tua, palmas. —Virg. 

CoNsTANTiA was a Woman of extraordinary Wit and Beauty, 
but very unhappy in a Father, who having arrived at great 
Riches by his own Industry, took Delight in nothing but 
his Money. Theodosius was the younger Son of a decayed 
Family, of great Parts and Learning, improved by a genteel 
and virtuous Education. When he was in the twentieth Year 
of his Age he became acquainted with Constantia, who had not 
then passed her fifteenth. As he lived but a few Miles Distance 
from her Father's House, he had frequent Opportunities of 
seeing her; and by the Advantages of a good Person and a 
pleasing Conversation, made such an Impression in her Heart 
as it was impossible for Time to efface: He was himself no 
less smitten with Constantia. A long Acquaintance made them 
still discover new Beauties in each other, and by Degrees raised 
in them that mutual Passion which had an Influence on their 
following Lives. It unfortunately happened, that in the Midst 
of this Intercourse of Love and Friendship between Theodosius 
and Constantia, there broke out an irreparable Quarrel between 
their Parents, the one valuing himself too much upon his 
Birth, and the other upon his Possessions. The Father of 
Constantia was so incensed at the Father of Theodosius, that 
he contracted an unreasonable Aversion towards his Son, 
insomuch that he forbad him his House, and charged his 
Daughter upon her Duty never to see him more. In the mean 
Time, to break off all Communication between the two Lovers, 
who he knew entertained secret Hopes of some favourable 
Opportunity that should bring them together, he found out a 
young Gentleman of a good Fortune and an agreeable Person, 
whom he pitched upon as a Husband for his Daughter. He 
soon concerted this Affair so well, that he told Constantia it 
was his Design to marry her to such a Gentleman, and that 
her Wedding should be celebrated on such a Day. Constantia, 
who was over-awed with the Authority of her Father, and 
unable to object any thing against so advantagious a Match, 
receiv'd the Proposal with a profound Silence; which her 
Father commended in her, as the most decent Manner of a 
Virgin’s giving her Consent to an Overture of that Kind. The 
Noise of thic intended Marriage soon reached Theodosius, who 
after a long Tumult of Passions, which naturally rise in a 



No. 164. Friday, Sept. 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 495 

Lover's Heart on such an Occasion, writ the following Letter 
to Constantia. 

'The Thought of my Constantia, which for some Years has 
been my only Happiness, is now become a greater Torment to 
me than I am able to bear. Must I then live to see you 
another's? The Streams, the Fields, and Meadows, where 
we have so often talked together, grow painful to me; Life 
it self is become a Burden. May you long be happy in the 
World, but forget that there was ever such a Man in it as 

THEODOSIUS.^ 

This Letter was conveyed to Constantia that very Evening, 
who fainted at the reading of it ; and the next Morning she was 
much more alarmed by two or three Messengers, that came to 
her Father's House one after another to enquire if they had 
heard any thing of Theodosius, who it seems had left his 
Chamber about Midnight, and could no where be found. The 
deep Melancholy which had hung upon his Mind some Time 
before, made them apprehend the worst that could befall him. 
Constantia, who knew that nothing but the Report of her 
Marriage could have driven him to such Extremities, was not 
to be comforted: She now accused herself for having so tamely 
given an Ear to the Proposal of a Husband, and looked upon 
the new Lover as the Murderer of Theodosius: In short, she 
resolved to suffer the utmost Effects of her Father's Dis¬ 
pleasure, rather than comply with a Marriage which appeared 
to her so full of Guilt and Horrour. The Father seeing himself 
entirely rid of Theodosius, and likely to keep a considerable 
Portion in his Family, was not very much concerned at the 
obstinate Refusal of his Daughter; and did not find it very 
difficult to excuse himself upon that Account to his intended 
Son-in-Law, who had all along regarded this Alliance rather 
as a Marriage of Convenience than of Love. Constantia had 
now no Relief but in her Devotions and Exercises of Religion, 
to which her Afflictions had so entirely subjected her Mind, 
that after some Years had abated the Violence of her Sorrows, 
and settled her Thoughts in a kind of Tranquility, she resolved 
to pass the Remainder of her Days in a Convent. Her Father 
waus not displeased with a Resolution, which would save Money 
in his Family, and readily complied with his Daughter's In¬ 
tentions. Accordingly in the Twenty-fifth Year of her Age, 
while her Beauty was yet in all its Height and Bloom, he 
carried her to a neighbouring City, in order to look out a Sister¬ 
hood of Nuns among whom to place his Daughter. There 
was in this Place a Father of a Convent who wa^ very much 
renowned for his Piety and exemplary Life; and as it is usual 



/\()6 THE SPECTATOR No. 164. Friday, Sept. 7, 171T 

in the Romish Church for those who are under any great 
Affliction or Trouble of Mind to apply themselves to the most 
eminent Confessors for Pardon and Consolation, our beautiful 
Votary took the Opportunity of confessing herself to this 
celebrated Father. 

We must now return to Theodosius, who the very Morning 
that the above-mentioned Enquiries had been made after him, 
arrived at a religious House in the City where now Constantia 
resided; and desiring that Secrecy and Concealment of the 
Fathers of the Convent which is very usual upon any extra¬ 
ordinary Occasion, he made himself one of the Order, with a 
private Vow never to enquire after Constantia, whom he looked 
upon as given away to his Rival upon the Day on which, accord¬ 
ing to common Fame, their Marriage was to have been solemnized. 
Having in his Youth made a good Progress in Learning, 
that he might dedicate himself more entirely to Religion 
he entered into holy Orders, and in a few Years became 
renowned for his Sanctity of Life, and those pious Sentiments 
which he inspired into all who conversed with him. It was 
this holy Man to whom Constantia had determined to apply 
herself in Confession, tho’ neither she nor any other besides 
the Prior of the Convent knew any thing of his Name or Family. 
The gay, the amiable Theodosius had now taken upon him 
the Name of Father Francis ; and was so far concealed in a long 
Beard, a shaven Head, and a religious Habit, that it was 
impossible to discover the Man of the World in the venerable 
Conventual. 

As he was one Morning shut up in his Confessional, Con¬ 
stantia kneeling by him, opened the State of her Soul to him; 
and after having given him the History of a Life full of Inno¬ 
cence, she burst out in Tears, and entered upon that Part of 
her Story in which he himself had so great a Share. My 
Behaviour, says she, has I fear been the Death of a Man who 
had no other Fault but that of loving me too much. Heaven 
only knows how dear he was to me whilst he lived, and how 
bitter the Remembrance of him has been to me since his Death. 
She here paused, and lifted up her Eyes that streamed with 
Tears towards the Father; who was so moved with the Sense 
of her Sorrows, that he could only command his Voice, which 
was broke with Sighs and Sobbings, so far as to bid her pro¬ 
ceed. She followed his Directions, and in a Flood of Tears 
poured out her Heart before him. The Father, could not 
forbear weeping aloud, insomuch that in the Agonies of his 
Grief the Seat shook under him. Constantia, who thought 
the good Map was thus moved by his Compassion towards her, 
and by the Horrour of her Guilt, proceeded with the utmost 



No. 164. Friday, Sept. 7, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 497 

Contrition to acquaint him with that Vow of Virginity in 
which she was going to engage herself, as the proper Atone¬ 
ment for her Sins, and the only Sacrifice she could make to 
the Memory of Theodosius. The Father, who by this time 
had pretty well composed himself, burst out again in Tears 
upon hearing that Name to which he had been so long disused, 
and upon receiving this Instance of an unparallel'd Fidelity 
from one who he thought had several Years since given herself 
up to the Possession of another. Amidst the Interruptions 
of his Sorrow, seeing his Penitent overwhelmed with Grief, 
he was only able to bid her from time to time be comforted— 
To tell her that her Sins were forgiven her—That her 
Guilt was not so great as she apprehended—That she 
should not suffer herself to be afflicted above Measure. After 
which he recovered himself enough to give her the Absolution 
in Form; directing her at the same time to repair to him a^ain 
the next Day, that he might encourage her in the pious 
Resolutions she had taken, and give her suitable Exhorta¬ 
tions for her Behaviour in it. Constantia retired, and the 
next Morning renewed her Applications. Theodosius having 
mann'd his Soul with proper Thoughts and Reflections, exerted 
himself on this Occasion in the best Manner he could, to animate 
his Penitent in the Course of Life she was entering upon, and 
wear out of her Mind those groundless Fears and Apprehen¬ 
sions which had taken Possession of it; concluding, with a 
Promise to her, that he would from time to time continue his 
Admonitions when she should have taken upon her the holy 
Veil. The Rules of our respective Orders, says he, will not 
permit that I should see you, but you may assure your self 
not only of having a Place in my Prayers, but of receiving 
such frequent Instructions as I can convey to you by Letters. 
Go on chearfully in the glorious Course you have undertaken, 
and you will quickly find such a Peace and Satisfaction in 
your Mind which it is not in the Power of the World to give. 

Constantia’s Heart was so elevated with the Discourse of 
Father Francis, that the very next Day she entered upon her 
Vow. As soon as the Solemnities of her Reception were over, 
she retired, as it is usual, with the Abbess into her own 
Apartment. 

The Abbess had been informed the Night before of all that 
had passed between her Novitiate and Father Francis: From 
whom she now delivered to her the following Letter. 

‘As the First Fruits of those Joys and Consolations which 
you may expect from the Life you are now engaged in, I must 
acquaint you that Theodosius, whose Death sits so heavy upon. 



498 THE SPECTATOR No. 164. Friday, Sept. 7, 1711 

your Thoughts, is still alive; and that the Father to whom you 
have confessed yourself, was once that Theodosius, whom 
you so much lament. The Love which we have had for one 
another will make us more happy in its Disappointment, than 
it could have done in its Success. Providence has disposed 
of us for our Advantage, tho' not according to our Wishes. 
Consider your Theodosius still as dead, but assure your sell 
of one who will not cease to pray for you in Father 

FRANCIS.* 

Constantia saw that the Hand-writing agreed with the 
Contents of the Letter; and upon reflecting on the Voice ol 
the Person, the Behaviour, and above all the extreme Sorrow 
of the Father during her Confession, she discovered Theodosius 
in every Particular. After having wept with Tears of Joy, It 
is enough, says she, Theodosius is still in Being: I shall live 
with Comfort and die in Peace. 

The Letters which the Father sent her afterwards are yet 
extant in the Nunnery where she resided; and are often read 
to the young Religious, in order to inspire them with good 
Resolutions and Sentiments of Virtue. It so happened, that 
after Constantia had lived about ten Years in the Cloyster, a 
violent Fever broke out in the Place, which swept away great 
Multitudes, and among others Theodosius. Upon his Death¬ 
bed he sent his Benediction in a very moving Manner to Con¬ 
stantia', who at that time was her self so far gone in the same 
fatal Distemper, that she lay delirious. Upon the Interval 
which generally precedes Death in Sicknesses of this Nature, 
the Abbess finding that the Physicians had given her over, told 
her that Theodosius was just gone before her, and that he 
had sent her his Benediction in his last Moments. Constantia 
receiv'd it with Pleasure: And now, says she, If I do not ask 
any thing improper, let me be buried by Theodosius. My Vow 
reaches no farther than the Grave. What I ask is, I hope, no 
Violation of it.—She died soon after, and was interred according 
to her Request. 

Their Tombs are still to be seen, with a short Latin In¬ 
scription over them to the following Purpose. 

Here lie the Bodies of Father Francis and Sister Constance. 
They were lovely in their Lives, and in their Death they were 
not divided, C 



No. 165. Saturday, Sept. 8, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 499 
No. 165. 

[ADDISON.] Saturday, September 8. 

... Si forte necesse est . 

Finf^ere cinctutis non exaudita Cethceis 

Continget: dahiturque licentia sumpta pudevter. —Hor. 

I HAVE often wished, that as in our Constitution there are 
several Persons whose Business it is to watch over our Laws, 
our Liberties and Commerce, certain Men might be set apart, 
as Super-intendants of our Language, to hinder any Words 
of a Foreign Coin from passing among us; and in particular to 
prohibit any French Phrases from becoming Current in this 
Kingdom, when those of our own stamp are altogether as 
valuable. The present War has so adulterated our Tongue 
with strange Words, that it would be impossible for one of 
our Great Grandfathers to know what his Posterity have been 
doing, were he to read their Exploits in a Modern News-Paper. 
Our Warriors are very Industrious in Propagating the French 
Language, at the same time that they are so gloriously success¬ 
ful in beating down their Power. Our Soldiers are Men of 
strong Heads for Action, and perform such Feats as they are 
not able to express. They want Words in their own Tongue 
to tell us what it is they Atchievc, and therefore send us over 
Accounts of their Performances in a Jargon of Phrases, which 
they learn among their Conquered Enemies. They ought 
however to be provided with Secretaries, and assisted by our 
Foreign Ministers, to tell their Story for them in plain English, 
and to let us know in our Mother-Tongue what it is our brave 
Countrymen are about. The French would indeed be in the 
right to publish the News of the present War in English Phrases, 
and make their Campaigns unintelligible. Their People might 
flatter themselves that things are not so bad as they really are, 
were they thus palliated with Foreign Terms, and thrown into 
Shades and Obscurity. But the English cannot be too clear 
in their Narrative of those Actions, which have raised their 
Country to a higher Pitch of Glory than it ever yet arrived at, 
and which will be still the more admired the better they are 
explained. 

For my part, by that Time a Siege is carried on two or three 
Days, I am altogether lost and bewildered in it, and meet with 
so many inexplicable Difl&culties, that I scarce know which 
Side has the better of it, till I am informed by the Tower 
Guns that the Place is surrendred. I do indeed make some 
Allowances foir this Part of the War, Fortifications having 
been Foreign Inventions, and upon that Account abounding 



500 THE SPECTATOR No. 165. Saturday, Sept. 8, 1711 

in Foreign Terms. But when we have won Battels which 
may be described in our own Language, why are our Papers 
filled with so many unintelligible Exploits, and the French 
obliged to lend us a part of their Tongue before we can know 
how they are Conquered? They must be made accessary to 
their own Disgrace, as the Britains were formerly so artificially 
wrought in the Curtain of the Roman Theatre, that they seemed 
to draw it up, in order to give the Spectators an Opportunity 
of seeing their own Defeat celebrated upon the Stage; For so 
Mr. Dryden has translated that Verse in Virgil. 

Purpurea intexti tollant aulaea Britanni. 

Which interwoven Britains seem to raise, 

And show the Triumph that their Shame displays. 

The Histories of all our former Wars are transmitted to us 
in our Vernacular Idiom, to use the Phrase of a great Modern 
Critick. I do not find in any of our Chronicles, that Edward 
the Third ever reconnoitred the Enemy, tho' he often dis¬ 
cover'd the Posture of the French, and as often vanquish'd 
them in Battel. The Black Prince passed many a River 
without the help of Pontoons, and filled a Ditch with Faggots 
as successfully as the Generals of our Times do it with Fas¬ 
cines. Our Commanders lose half their Praise, and our 
People half their Joy, by means of those hard Words and dark 
Expressions in which our News-Papers do so much abound. 
I have seen many a prudent Citizen, after having read every 
Article, enquire of his next Neighbour what News the Mail 
had brought. 

I remember in that remarkable Year when our Country was 
delivered from the greatest Fears and Apprehensions, and 
raised to the greatest height of Gladness it had ever felt since 
it was a Nation, I mean the Year of Blenheim, I had the Copy 
of a Letter sent me out of the Country, which was written 
from a young Gentleman in the Army to his Father, a Man of 
a good Estate and plain Sense: As the Letter was very modishly 
checquered with this Modern Military Eloquence, I shall pre¬ 
sent my Reader with a Copy of it. 

‘ Sir, 

Upon the Junction of the French and Bavarian Armies they 
took Post behind a great Morass which they thought imprac¬ 
ticable. Our General the next Day sent a Party of Horse to 
reconnoitre them from a little Hauteur, at about a quarter of 
an Hour's distance from the Army, who return'd again to the 
Camp unobserved through several Defiles, in one of which 



No. 165. Saturday, Sept. 8, I7H THE SPECTATOR 501 

they met with a Party of French that had been Marauding, 
and made them all Prisoners at Discretion. The Day after a 
drum arrived at our Camp, with a Message which he would 
communicate to none but the General; he was tollowed by a 
Trumpet, who they say behaved himself very saucily, with a 
Message from the Duke of Bavaria. The next Morning our 
Army being divided into two Corps, made a Movement towards 
the Enemy: You will hear in the publick Prints how we 
treated them, with the other Circumstances of that glorious 
Day. I had the good Fortune to be in the Regiment that 
pushed the Gens d* Arms. Several French Battalions, who 
some say were a Corps de Reserve, made a Show of Resistance; 
but it only proved a Gasconade, for upon our preparing to fill 
up a little Fosse, in order to attack them, they beat the 
Chamade, and sent us Charte Blanche. Their Commandant, 
with a great many other General Officers, and Troops without 
number, are made Prisoners of War, and will I believe give 
you a Visit in England, the Cartel not being yet settled. Not 
questioning but these Particulars will be very welcome to you, 
I congratulate you upon them, and am your most dutiful 
Son,' &c. 

The Father of the young Gentleman upon the Penisal of 
the Letter found it contained great News, but could not guess 
what it was. He immediately communicated it to the Curate 
of the Parish, who upon the reading of it, being vexed to see 
any thing he could not understand, fell into a kind of a Passion, 
and told him, that his Son has sent him a Letter that was 
neither Fish, Flesh, nor good Red Herring. I wish, says he, 
the Captain may be Compos Mentis, he talks of a saucy 
Trumpet, and a Drum that carries Messages: Then who is this 
Charte Blanche: He must either banter us, or he is out of his 
Senses. The Father, who always look'd upon the Curate as a 
learned Man, began to fret inwardly at his Son’s Usage, and 
producing a Letter which he had written to him about three 
Posts afore. You see here, says he, when he writes for Mony 
he knows how to speak intelligibly enough; there is no Man in 
England can express himself clearer, when he wants a new 
Furniture for his Horse. In short, the old Man was so puzzled 
upon the Point, that it might have fared ill with his Son, 
had he not seen all the Prints about three Days after filled 
with the same Terms of Art, and that Charles only writ like 
other Men. L 



502 THE SPECTATOR No.*i66. Monday, Sept. lo, 1711 
No. 166. 

[ADDISON.] Monday, September 10. 

. . . Q!4od nec Jovis ira, nec ignis, 

Nec polerit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas. —Ovid. 

Aristotle tells us, that the World is a Copy or Transcript of 
those Ideas which are in the Mind of the first Being; and that 
those Ideas which are in the Mind of Man, are a Transcript of 
the World: To this we may add. that Words are the Transcript 
of those Ideas which are in the Mind of Man, and that Writing 
or Printing are the Transcript of Words. 

As the supreme Being has expressed, and as it were printed 
bis Ideas in the Creation, Men express their Ideas in Books, 
which by this great Invention of these latter Ages may last as 
long as the Sun and Moon, and perish only in the general 
Wreck of Nature. Thus Cowley in his Poem on the Resur¬ 
rection, mentioning the Destruction of the Universe, has those 
admirable Lines. 


Now all the wide-extended Sky, 

And all th' harmonious Worlds on high. 

And Virgil's sacred Work shall die. 

There is no other Method of fixing those Thoughts which 
arise and disappear in the Mind of Man, and transmitting them 
to the last Periods of Time; no other Method of giving a Per¬ 
manency to our Ideas, and preserving the Knowledge of any 
particular Person, when his Body is mixed with the common 
Mass of Matter, and his Soul retired into the World of Spirits. 
Books arc the Legacies that a great Genius leaves to Mankind, 
which are delivered down from Generation to Generation, as 
Presents to the Posterity of those who are yet unborn. 

All other Arts of perpetuating our Ideas continue but a short 
Time: Statues can last but a few Thousands of Years, Edifices 
fewer, and Colours still fewer than Edifices. Michael Angelo, 
Fontana, and Raphael, will hereafter be what Phidias, Vitru¬ 
vius, and Apelles are at present; the Names of great Statuaries, 
Architects, and Painters, whose Works are lost. The several 
Arts are expressed in mouldring Materials; Nature sinks under 
them, and is not able to support the Ideas which are imprest 
upon it. 

The Circumstance which gives Authors an Advantage above 
all these great Masters, is this, that they can multiply their 
Originals; or rather can make Copies of their Works, to what 
Number they please, which shall be as valuable as the Originals 
themselves." This gives a great Author something like a 
Prospect of Eternity, but at the same Time deprives him of 



Mo. i66. Monday, Sept. lo, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 503 

those other Advantages which Artists meet with. The Artist 
finds greater Returns in Profit, as the Author in Fame. What 
an inestimable Price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or 
an Aristotle bear, were their Works like a Statue, a Building, 
or a Picture, or to be confined only in one Place, and made 
the Property of a single Person? 

If Writings are thus durable, and may pass from Age to 
Age throughout the whole Course of Time, how careful should 
an Author be of committing any thing to Print that may 
corrupt Posterity, and poyson the Minds of Men with Vice 
and Errour? Writers of great Talents, who employ their 
Parts in propagating Immorality, and seasoning vicious Senti¬ 
ments with Wit and Humour, are to be looked upon as the 
Pests of Society and the Enemies of Mankind: They leave 
Books behind them (as it is .said of those who die in Distempers 
which breed an ill Will towards their own Species) to scatter 
Infection and destroy their Posterity. They act the Counter¬ 
parts of a Confucius or a Socrates; and seem to have been sent 
into the World to deprave humane Nature, and sink it into the 
Condition of Brutality. 

I have seen some Roman-Catholick Authors, who tell us 
that vicious Writers continue in Purgatory so long as the 
Influence of their Writings continues upon Posterity: For 
Purgatory, say they, is nothing else but a cleansing us of 
our Sins, which cannot be said to be done away, so long as 
they continue to operate and corrupt Mankind. The vicious 
Author, say they, sins after Death, and so long as he continues 
to sin, so long must he expect to be punished. Though the 
Roman-Catholick Notion of Purgatory be indeed very ridicu¬ 
lous, one cannot but think that if the Soul after Death has any 
Knowledge of what passes in this World, that of an immoral 
Writer would receive much more Regret from the Sense of 
corrupting, than Satisfaction from the Thought of pleasing 
his surviving Admirers. . 

To take off from the Severity of this Speculation, I shall 
conclude this Paper with a Story of an Atheistical Author, who 
at a time when he lay dangerously sick and had desired the 
Assistance of a neighbouring Curate, confessed to him with 
great Contrition, that nothing sat more heavy at his Heart 
than the Sense of his having seduced the Age by his Writings, 
and that their evil Influence was likely to continue even after 
his Death. The Curate upon further Examination finding the 
Penitent in the utmost Agonies of Despair, and being himself 
a Man of Learning, told him, that he hoped his Qase was not 
so desperate as he apprehended, since he found that he Was 
so very sensible of his Fault, and so sincerely repented of it. • 

I—R 



504 THE SPECTATOR No. 166. Monday, Sept. 10, 1711 

The Penitent still urged the evil Tendency of his Books to 
subvert all Religion, and the little Ground of Hope there could 
be for one whose Writings would continue to do Mischief when 
his Body was laid in Ashes. The Curate finding no other 
Way to comfort him, told him, that he did well in being 
afflicted for the evil Design with which he published his Book; 
but that he ought to be very thankful that there was no 
Danger of its doing any Hurt. That his Cause was so very 
bad and his Arguments so weak, that he did not apprehend any 
ill Effects of it. In short, that he might rest satisfied his Book 
could do no more Mischief after his Death, than it had done 
whilst he was living. To which he added, for his further 
Satisfaction, that he did not believe any besides his particular 
Friends and Acquaintance had ever been at the Pains of read¬ 
ing it, or that any Body after his Death would ever enquire 
after it. The dying Man had still so much the Fraility of an 
Author in him, as to be cut to the Heart with these Consola¬ 
tions ; and without answering the good Man, asked his Friends 
about him (with a Peevishness that is natural to a sick Person) 
where they had picked up such a Block-head ? And whether 
they thought him a proper Person to attend one in his Con¬ 
dition? The Curate finding that the Author did not expect 
to be dealt with as a real and sincere Penitent, but as a Peni¬ 
tent of Importance, after a short Admonition withdrew; not 
questioning but he should be again sent for if the Sickness 
grew desperate. The Author however recovered, and has 
since written two or three other Tracts with the same Spirit, 
and very luckily for his poor Soul, with the same Success. C 


No. 167. 

[STEELE.] Tuesday, September ix. 

. . . Fuit hand ignobilis Argis, 

Qui se credebat miros audite tragoedos, 

In vacuo laetus sessor plausorque theatro: 

Caeiera qui vitae servaret munia recto 
More; bonus sane vicinus, amabilis hospes, 

Contis in uxorem, posset qui ignoscere servis, 

Et signo laeso non insanire lagenae; 

Posset qui rupem 6* puteum vitare pateniem. 

Hie ubi cognatorum opibus curisque refectus 
Expulit elleboro morbum bilemque meraco, 

Et redit ad sese: Pol mt occidistis, amici. 

Non servastis, ait, cut sic extorta voluptas, 

Et demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error. —Hor. 

The unhappy Force of an Imagination unguided by the Check 
of Reason and Judgment, was the Subject of a former Specu- 



No. 167. Tuesday^ Sept, ii, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 505 

lation. My Reader may remember that he has seen in one of 
my Papers a Complaint of an unfortunate Gentleman, who 
was unable to contain himself, (when any ordinary Matter 
was laid before him) from adding a few Circumstances to 
enliven plain Narrative. That Correspondent was a Person 
of too warm a Complexion to be satisfied with things merely 
as they stood in Nature, and therefore formed Incidents which 
should have happened to have pleased him in the Story. The 
same ungoverned Fancy which pushed that Correspondent on, 
in Spite of himself, to relate publick and notorious Falshoods, 
makes the Author of the following Letter do the same in 
Private; one is a prating the other a silent Liar. 

There is little pursued in the Errors of either of these Worthies 
but mere present Amusement: But the Folly of him who lets 
his Fancy place him in distant Scenes untroubled and unin¬ 
terrupted, is very much preferable to that of him who is ever 
forcing a Belief, and defending his Untruths with new In¬ 
ventions. But I shall hasten to let this Liar in Soliloquy, 
who calls himself a Castle-builder, describe himself with the 
same Unreservedness as formerly appeared in my Correspon¬ 
dent above-mention’d. If a Man were to be serious on this 
Subject, he might give very grave Admonitions to those who 
are following any thing in this Life, on which they think 
to place their Hearts, and tell them that they are really 
Castle-builders. Fame, Glory, Wealth, Honour, have in 
the Prospect pleasing Illusions; but they who come to possess 
any of them will find they are Ingredients towards Happiness, 
to be regarded only in the second Place, and that when they 
are valued in the first Degree, they are as disappointing as 
any of the Phantoms in the following Letter. 

‘Mr. Spectator, Sept. 6, 1711, 

I am a Fellow of a very odd Frame of Mind, as you will find 
by the Sequel; and think my self Fool enough to deserve a 
Place in your Paper. I am unhappily far gone in Building, 
and am one of that Species of Men who are properly denomi¬ 
nated Castle-Builders, who scorn to be beholden to the Earth 
for a Foundation, or dig in the Bowels of it for Materieds; but 
rest their Structures in the most unstable of Elements, the 
Air; Fancy alone laying the Line, marking the Extent, and 
shaping the Model. It would be difficult to enumerate what 
august Palaces and stately Porticoes have grown under my 
forming Imagination, or what verdant Meadows and shady 
Groves have started into Being by the powerful Feat of a 
warm Fancy. A Castle-Builder is even just whdt he pleases, 
and as such I have grasped imaginary Scepters, and delivered. 



5o6 the spectator No. 167. Tuesday, Sept, ii, 1711 

uncontroulable Edicts, from a Throne to which conquer'd 
Nations yielded Obeisance. I have made I know not how many 
Inroads into France, and ravaged the very Heart of that King¬ 
dom; I have dined in the Louvre, and drank Champaign at 
Versailles] and I would have you take Notice, I am not only 
able to vanquish a People already cowed and accustomed to 
Flight, but I could, Almanzor like, drive the British General 
from the Field, were I less a Protestant, or had ever been 
affronted by the Confederates. There is no Art or Profession, 
whose most celebrated Masters I have not eclipsed. Wherever 
I have afforded my salutary Presence, Fevers have ceased to 
burn, and Agues to shake the human Fabrick. When an 
eloquent Fit has been upon me, an apt Gesture and proper 
Cadence has animated each Sentence, and gazing Crowds 
have found their Passions worked up into Rage, or soothed 
into a Calm. I am short, and not very well made; yet upon 
Sight of a fine Woman, I have stretch’d into proper Stature, 
and killed with a good Air and Mein. These are the gay 
Phantoms that dance before my waking Eyes, and compose 
my Day-Dreams. I should be the most contented happy 
Man alive, were the chimerical Happiness which springs from 
the Paintings of Fancy less fleeting and transitory. But 
alasl it is with Grief of Mind I tell you, the least Breath of 
Wind has often demolished my magnificent Edifices, swept 
away my Groves, and left no more Trace of them than if they 
had never been. My Exchequer has sunk and vanished by a 
Rap on my Door, the Salutation of a Friend has cost me a 
whole Continent, and in the same Moment I have been pulled 
by the Sleeve, my Crown has fallen from my Head. The ill 
Consequence of these Reveries is inconceivably great, seeing 
the Loss of imaginary Possessions makes Impressions of real 
Woe. Besides, bad Oeconomy is visible and apparent in 
Builders of invisible Mansions. My Tenant's Advertisements 
of Ruins and Dilapidations often cast a Damp on my Spirits, 
even in the Instant when the Sun, in all his Splendor, gilds my 
Eastern Palaces. Add to this the pensive Drudgery in Build¬ 
ing, and constant grasping Aerial Trowels, distracts and shatters 
the Mind, and the fond Builder of Babells is often cursed with 
an incoherent Diversity and Confusion of Thoughts. I do not 
know to whom I can more properly apply my self for relief 
from this Fantastical Evil, than to your self; whom I earnestly 
implore to accommodate me with a Method how to settle my 
Head and cool my Brain-p^n. A Dissertation on Castle- 
Building may not only be serviceable to my self, but all Archi¬ 
tects, who display their Skill in tiie thin Element. Such a 
Favour would oblige me to make my next Sohloquy not con- 



No. 167. Tuesday, Sept, ii, 1711 THE SPECTATOR 507 

tain the Praises of my dear self but of the Spectator, who 
shall, by complying with this, make me 

His Obliged, Humble Servant, 

T Vitruvius/ 


No. 168. 

[STEELE.] Wednesday, September 12. 

. . . Pectus praeceptis format amicis. —Hor. 

It would be Arrogance to neglect the Application of my 
Correspondents, so far as not sometimes to insert their Anim¬ 
adversions upon my Paper; that of this Day shall be therefore 
wholly composed of the Hints which they have sent me. 

'Mr. Spectator, 

I send you this to congratulate your late Choice of a Subject, 
for treating on which you deserve publick Thanks; I mean 
that on those licensed T)rrants the School-masters. If you 
can disarm them of their Rods, you will certainly have your 
old Age reverenced by all the young Gentlemen of Great 
Britain who are now between seven and seventeen years. 
You may boast that the incomparably wise Quintilian and you 
are of one Mind in this Particular. Si cui est (says he) mens 
tarn illiberalis ut objurgatione non corrigatur, is etiam ad plagas, 
ut pessima quaeque mancipia, durabitur,—If any Child be of so 
disingenuous a Nature, as not to stand corrected by Reproof, he, 
like the very worst of Slaves, will be hardened even against Blows 
themselves; and afterwards, Pudet dicere in quae probra nefandi 
homines isto caedendi jure abutantur, i.e. / blush to say how 
shamefully those wicked Men abuse the Power of Correction. 

I was bred my self. Sir, in a very great School, of which the 
Master wa^ a Welchman, but certainly descended from a 
Spanish Family, as plainly appear'd from his Temper as well 
as his Name. I leave you to judge what a sort of a School¬ 
master a Welchman ingrafted on a Spaniard would make. So 
very dreadful had he made himself to me, that altho’ it is above 
twenty Years since I felt his heavy Hand, yet still once a 
Month at least I dream of him, so strong an Impression did he 
make on my Mind. 'Tis a Sign he has fully terrified me waking, 
who still continues to haunt me sleeping. 

And yet I may say, without Vanity, that the Business of 
the School was what I did without great Difficulty; and I 
was not remarkably unlucky; and yet such was the Master's 
Severity, that once a Month, or oftner, I suffereli as much as 
would have satisfied the Law of the Land for a Petty-Larceny. , 



5o8 the spectator No. i6S. Wednesday, Sept. 12, lyii 

Many a white and tender Hand, which the fond Mother had 
passionately kiss'd a thousand and a thousand Times, have I 
seen whipped till it was covered with Blood: perhaps for 
smiling, or for going a Yard and half out of a Gate, or for 
writing an O for an A. or an A for an O: These were our 
great Faults! Many a brave and noble Spirit has been there 
broken; others have run from thence and were never heard of 
afterwards. It is a worthy Attempt to undertake the Cause 
of distrest Youth; and it is a noble Piece of Knight-Errantry 
to enter the Lists against so many armed Paedagogues. 'Tis 
pity but we had a Set of Men, polite in their Behaviour and 
Method of teaching, who should be put into a Condition of being 
above flattering or fearing the Parents of those they instruct. 
We might then possibly see Learning become a Pleasure, and 
Children delighting themselves in that, which now they abhor 
for coming upon such hard Terms to them: What would be 
still a greater Happiness arising from the Care of such In¬ 
structors, would be, that we should have no more Pedants, 
nor any bred to Learning who had not Genius for it. I am, 
with the utmost Sincerity, 

Sir, 

Your most affectionate 

humble Servant.’ 

’Mr. Spectator, Richmond, Sept. 5th, 1711. 

I am a Boy of fourteen Years of Age, and have for this last 
Year been under the Tuition of a Doctor of Divinity, who has 
taken the School of this Place under his Care. From the 
Gentleman's great Tenderness to me and Friendship to my 
Father, I am very happy in learning my Book with Pleasure. 
We never leave off our Diversions any further than to salute 
him at Hours of Play when he pleases to look on. It is im¬ 
possible for any of us to love our own Parents better than we 
do him. He never gives any of us an harsh Word, and we 
think it the greatest Punishment in the World when he will 
not speak to any of us. My Brother and I are both together 
inditing this Letter: He is a Year older than I am, but is now 
ready to break his Heart that the Doctor has not taken any 
Notice of him these three Days. If you please to print this 
he will see it, and, we hope, taking it for my Brother's earnest 
Desire to be restored to his Favour, he will again smile upon 
him. 

Your most obedient Servant, 


T. S, 



No. i68. Wednesday, Sept. 12,1711 THE SPECTATOR 509 
‘ Mr. Spectator, 

You have represented several sorts of Impertinents singly, I 
wish you would now proceed, and describe some of them in 
Sets. It often happens in publick Assemblies, that a Party 
who came thither together, or whose Impertinencies are of an 
equal Pitch, act in Concert, and are so full of themselves as to 
give Disturbance to all that are about them. Sometimes you 
have a Set of Whisperers who lay their Heads together in order 
to sacrifice every Body within their Observation; sometimes 
a Set of Laughers, that keep up an insipid Mirth in their own 
Corner, and by their Noise and Gestures shew they have no 
Respect for the rest of the Company. You frequently meet 
with these Sets at the Opera, the Play, the Water-works, and 
other publick Meetings, where their whole Business is to draw 
off the Attention of the Spectators from the Entertainment, 
and to fix it upon themselves; and it is to be observ'd that the 
Impertinence is ever loudest, when the Set happens to be made 
up of three or four Females who have got what you call a 
Woman's Man among them. 

I am at a Loss to know from whom People of Fortune should 
learn this Behaviour, unless it be from the Footmen who keep 
their Places at a new Play, and are often seen passing away 
their Time in Sets at All-fours in the Face of a full House, and 
with a perfect Disregard to the People of Quality sitting on 
each side of them. 

For preserving therefore the Decency of publick Assemblies, 
methinks it would be but reasonable that those who disturb 
others should pay at least a double Price for their Places; or 
rather Women of Birth and Distinction should be inform'd, that 
Levity of Behaviour in the Eyes of People of Understanding 
degrades them below their meanest Attendants; and Gentle¬ 
men should know that a fine Coat is a Livery, when the 
Person who wears it discovers no higher Sense than that of 
a Footman. I am, 

Sir, 

Your most humble Servant.' 

* Mr. Spectator, Bedfordshire, Sept. 1st, 1711. 

I am one of those whom every Body calls a Pocher, and 
sometimes go out to course with a Brace of Greyhounds, a 
Mastiff, and a Spaniel or two; and when I am weary with 
Coursing, and have killed Hares enough, go to an Ale-house 
to refresh myself. I beg the Favour of you (as you set up for 
a Reformer) to send us Word how many Dogs you will allow 
us to go with, how many Full-Pots of Ale to drink, and how 



510 THE SPECTATOR No.i6^. Wednesday, Sept. 12, lyii 

many Haxes to kill in a Day, and you will do a great Piece of 
Service to all the Sports-men: Be quick then, for the Time of 
Coursing is come on. 

Yours in Haste, 

T Isaac Hedgeditch.' 


No. 169. 

[ADDISON.] Thursday, September 13. 

Sic vita erat; facile omnes perferre ac pati: 

Cum quibus erat cunque una, his sese dedere, 

Eorum ohsequi studiis: advorsus nemini; 

Nunquam praeponens se aliis: Ita facillime 
Sine invidia invenias laudem. —Ter. Andr. 

Man is subject to innumerable Pains and Sorrows by the very 
Condition of Humanity, and yet, as if Nature had not sown 
evils enough in Life, we are continually adding Grief to Grief, 
and aggravating the common Calamity by our cruel Treat¬ 
ment of one another. Every Man’s natural Weight of Afflic¬ 
tion is still made more heavy by the Envy, Malice, Treachery, 
or Injustice of his Neighbour. At the same time that the 
Storm beats upon the whole Species, we are falling foul upon 
one another. 

Half the Misery of Human Life might be extinguished, 
would Men alleviate the general Curse they lie under, by 
mutual Offices of Compassion, Benevolence and Humanity. 
There is nothing therefore which we ought more to encourage 
in our selves and others, than that Disposition of Mind which 
in our Language goes under the Title of Good-nature, and 
which I shall chuse for the Subject of this Day’s Speculation. 

Good-nature is more agreeable in Conversation than Wit, 
and gives a certain Air to the Countenance which is more 
amiable than Beauty. It shows Virtue in the fairest Light, 
takes off in some measure from the Deformity of Vice, and 
makes even Folly and Impertinence supportable. 

There is no Society or Conversation to be kept up in the 
World without Good-nature, or something which must bear 
its Appearance, and supply its Place. For this Reason Man¬ 
kind have been forced to invent a kind of Artificial Humanity, 
which is what we express by the Word Good-Breeding. For 
if we examine thoroughly the Idea of what we call so, we shall 
find it to be nothing else but an Imitation and Mimickry of 
Good-nature/ or in other Terms, Affability, Complaisance and 
Easiness of Temper reduced into an Art. 



No. i6g, Thursday, Sept, ly 11 THE SPECTATOR 511 

These exterior Shows and Appearances of Humanity render 
a Man wonderfully popular and beloved, when they are 
founded upon a real Good-nature; but without it are like 
Hypocrisy in Religion, or a bare Form of Holiness, which, 
when it is discovered, makes a Man more detestable than 
professed Impiety. 

Good-nature is generally born with us: Health, Prosperity 
and kind Treatment from the World are great Cherishers of it 
where they find it, but nothing is capable of forcing it up, 
where it does not grow of it self. It is one of the Blessings of a 
happy Constitution, which Education may improve but not 
produce. 

Xenophon in the Life of his Imaginary Prince, whom he 
describes as a Pattern for Real ones, is always celebrating the 
Philanthropy or Good-nature of his Hero, which he tells us he 
brought into the World with him, and gives many remarkable 
Instances of it in his Childhood, as well as in all the several 
Parts of his Life. Nay, on his Death-bed, he describes him as 
being pleased, that while his Soul returned to him who mad^ 
it, his Body should incorporate with the great Mother of all 
things, and by that means become beneficial to Mankind. For 
which reason, he gives his Sons a positive Order not to enshrine 
it in Gold or Silver, but to lay it in the Earth as soon as the 
Life was gone out of it. 

An Instance of such an Overflowing of Humanity, such an 
exuberant Love to Mankind, could not have entered into the 
Imagination of a Writer, who had not a Soul filled with great 
Ideas, and a general Benevolence to Mankind. 

In that celebrated Passage of Salust, where Caesar and Cato 
are placed in such beautiful, but opposite Lights; Caesar's 
Character is chiefly made up of Good-nature, as it show'd it 
self in all its Forms towards his Friends or his Enemies, his 
Servants or Dependants, the Guilty or the Distressed. As 
for Cato's Character, it is rather awful than amiable. Justice 
seems most agreeable to the Nature of God, and Mercy to that 
of Man. A Being who has nothing to Pardon in himself, 
may reward every Man according to his Works; but he whose 
very best Actions must be seen with Grains of Allowance, 
cannot be too mild, moderate, and forgiving. For this reason, 
among all the monstrous Characters in Human Nature, there 
is none so odious, nor indeed so exquisitely Ridiculous, as that 
of a rigid severe Temper in a Worthless Man. 

This Part of Good-nature, however, which consists in the 
pardoning and over-looking of Faults, is to be exercised only 
in doing our selves Justice, and that too in the ordinary 
Commerce and Occurrences of Life; for in the Publick 

j _ 1H4 



512 THE SPECTATOR No. 169. Thursday, Sept. 13, 1711 

Administrations of Justice, Mercy to one may be Cruelty to 
others. 

It is grown almost into a Maxim, that Good-natured Men 
are not always Men of the most Wit. This Observation, in 
my Opinion, has no Foundation in Nature. The greatest Wits 
T have conversed with, are Men eminent for their Humanity. 
I take therefore this Remark to have been occasioned by two 
Reasons. First, Because Ill-nature among ordinary Observers 
passes for Wit. A spightful Saying gratifies so many little 
Passions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with a 
good Reception. The Laugh rises upon it, and the Man who 
utters it is look'd upon as a shrewd Satyrist. This may be 
one Reason why a great many pleasant Companions appear so 
surprizingly dull, when they have endeavoured to be Merry 
in Print; the Publick being more just than Private Clubs or 
Assemblies, in distinguishing between what is Wit and what 
is Ill-nature. 

Another Reason why the Good-natured Man may some- 
limes bring his Wit in Question, is, perhaps, because he is apt 
to be moved with Compassion for those Misfortunes or In¬ 
firmities, which another would turn into Ridicule, and by that 
Means gain the Reputation of a Wit. The Ill-natured Man, 
though but of equal Parts, gives himself a larger Field to 
expatiate in, he exposes those Failings in Human Nature which 
the other would cast a Veil over, laughs at Vices which the 
other either excuses or conceals, gives Utterance to Reflections 
which the other stifles, falls indifferently upon Friends or 
Enemies, exposes the Person who has obliged him, and in short 
sticks at nothing that may establish his Character of a Wit. 
It is no wonder therefore he succeeds in it better than the 
Man of Humanity, as a Person who makes use of indirect 
Methods is more likely to grow rich than the fair Trader. L 


The End of the Second Volume. 



NOTES 


A = Original Daily Issue. 

B. /. — Biographical Index. 

Dedication, page i. Addison dedicated his Poem to His Majesty 
(1695) and his Remarks on Several Parts of Italy (1705) to Lord 
Somers. He wrote a fuller appreciation in No. 39 of the Free¬ 
holder, published on the day of Somers's funeral. Steele, in 
No. 438 of the Spectator, speaks of him as ‘one of the greatest 
Souls now in the World.’ Cf. Swift’s ‘Bookseller's Dedication’ 
prefixed to the Tale of a Tub, and Pope's panegyrical footnote 
to line 77 of the Epilogue to the Satires. 

I. PAGE 3. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 143. 

Below the motto of No. i of the original issue is printed: 
‘To be Continued every Day.' 

PAGE 4. The ‘taciturnity’ of Mr. Spectator, which would appear 
to be a good-natured transcript of Addison’s personal manner, 
is humorously sustained throughout the subsequent papers. 
The ‘dumb man’ is the counterpart of the ‘old astrologer’ of 
the Tatler. ‘She gave out, with good Success, that I was an 
Old Astrologer; after that a Dumb Man; and last of all she 
made me pass for a Lion.’ {Guardian, No. 141.) 

Addison alludes, in the second paragraph, to the oriental 
savant, John Greaves {1602-52), Professor of Geometry at 
Gresham College, London, and afterwards Savilian Professor of 
Astronomy at Oxford, who published Pyramidographia or A 
Discourse of the Pyramids of Egypt (1646) and several other 
works, chiefly on weights and measures (collected and edited by 
Birch, 1737). His argument, an anticipation of that of Piazzi 
Smyth, is explained in the title of a pamphlet printed in 1706: 
The Origins and Antiquity of our English Weights 6* Measures 
discovered by their near agreement with such Standards that are 
now found %n one of the Egyptian Pyramids. Addison returns, 
in Nos. 8, 17, 69, loi, 159, etc., to his joke about the voyage to 
Grand Cairo. 

With the third paragraph cf. the announcement ip No. 1 of 
the Tatler : ‘ All accounts of Gallantry, Pleasure, and Entertain¬ 
ment shall be under the article of White’s Chocolate-house; 
Poetry, under that of Will’s Coffee-house; Learning, under the 
title of Grecian; Foreign and Domestic News you will have 
from Saint James's Coffee-house.' Will’s Coffee - house, in 
Russell Street, Co vent Garden, had been the chief rendezvous 
of the wits since Dryden’s association with it, but by 1711 its 
literary reputation was on the decline. Swift, in his rhapsody 
On Poetry, pictures its ‘tribe of circling Wits,’ and, in the T<Ue 
of a Tub, refers satirically to the low tone of conversation at this 
house at this time. So, too, in Pope’s correspondence of this • 

513 



THE SPECTATOR 


5 M . 

period there are several references to the house and to its ruling 
spirit Tidcombe, whose 'beastly laughable life' was 'at once 
nasty and diverting’ (Elwin and Courthopc, vi. 84). Addison, 
who had been a habituS, withdrew in 1712 lo Button's, a new 
house on the other side of the street. Child’s, in St. Paul’s 
Churchyard, had. from its proximity to Doctors’ Commons, the 
Royal Society (then at Gresham College), and the College of 
Physicians, a large clientele among the clergy and professional 
classes, mostly of the Tory party (cf. Nos. 556 and 609). St. 
James's was a fashionable Whig house at the south-west 
corner of St. James's Street; and the Cocoa-Tree, in the same 
street, attracted the Tories. The Grecian, in Devereux Street 
in the Strand (originally carried on by a Greek who had come to 
England with an English merchant in 1652), was chiefly a 
lawyers’ resort, but was frequented by the learned for the dis¬ 
cussion of questions of philosophy and scholarship (cf. Nos. 49 
and 403). Pope addresses his paper ‘To the learned Inquisitor 
Martinus Scriblerus: the Society of Free Thinkers Greeting’ 
from the Grecian, and satirizes the pedantic symposia of the 
college sophs and 'pert' Templars in the second book of The 
Dun dad (lines 379 et sqq.). There is a companion sketch in 
the humorous advertisement in the 78th Taller, which describes 
the 'seat of learning’ in the Smjoma Coffee-house in Pall Mall. 
Jonathan's, in Change Alley, was the favourite coffee-house of 
the merchant and stock-jobbing class ('that General Maurt of 
Stock-jobbers,' Taller, No. 38), just as Garraway's, in the same 
street, well known for its wine sales, was the recognized ren¬ 
dezvous of their more fashionable customers. 

The Post-Man newspaper—^which, according to the 'Uphols¬ 
terer,' wrote ‘like an angel' (Taller, No. 232), and was ‘the best 
for everything,’ according to John Dunton (Life and Errors. 
1705)—^was carried on by a M. Fonvive, described in the General 
Postscript (1709, No. 12), as 'M. Hugonotius, Politicus Gallo- 
Anglus, a spiteful Commentator.' It had some reputation for 
its foreign news and correspondence (cf. Tatler, No. 178). 
Steele imputed the loss of the 'Upholsterer's' intellect to its 
' Way of going on in the Words, and making no Progress in the 
Sense' (Taller, No. 178); and Defoe criticized it in his Review 
of the Affairs of France. See Swift’s Journal to Stella, 26th 
October 1710: also Nichols's Literary Anecdotes, iv. Oi et sqq., 84. 

PAGE (y. The letters of correspondents became a feature of the 
Spectator. Addison states his editorial position in Nos. 16, 46, 
428, and 442 (with 450); in No. 271 he pleasantly refers to the 
critical readers who, like Nick Doubt of the Tatler (No. 91), 
suspected the genuineness of these contributions. Steele was, as 
Johnson tells us, much beholden to outside 'copy' (Lives, 1790 
edition, ii. 343, 365). Two volumes of Original and Genuine 
Letters sent to the Tatler and Spectator 'Vfctt published in 1725 by 
Lillie, the perfumer, with Steele’s name on the title-page, 

2. Motto. 'Juvenal, Satires, vii. 167. 

Johnson's statement (based on a paragraph by Budgell, 
which Addison is said to have revised) that the personages ol 



NOTES 


515 


the Spectator were not ‘merely ideal/ but 'known and con¬ 
spicuous in various stations’ {Lives, ii. 348), is probably re¬ 
sponsible for the almost morbid ingenuity of later editors in 
identifying the characters of these papers. Sir Roger’s original 
appears to have been Sir John Pakington, a Tory squire of 
Worcestershire (1671-1727). Captain Sentry and Will Honey¬ 
comb are said to be portraits of Colonels Kempenfelt and 
Cleland. Will Wimble, like Tom Folio of the Taller, has been 
traced (No. 108, note), and even the ‘perverse beautiful widow’ 
has been discovered (No. 113, note). 'Theophrastus,' says 
Budgell, ‘was the Spectator of the age he lived in. He drew 
the pictures of particular men; and while he was describing, 
for example, a miser, having some remarkable offender of this 
kind in his eye, he threw in a circumstance or two, which, tho' 
they might not possibly be proper examples of Avarice, served 
to make the Picture of the man Compleat' (Preface to The 
Moral Characters of Theophrastus, 1714). The popular inter¬ 
pretation of this passage would appear to be somewhat forced; 
and the difficulty of finding biographical analogies, especially 
in the case of Sir John Pakington (see Dictionary of National 
Biography), is a very serious argument against its justness. 
Steel anticipated this antiquarian ingenuity, and endeavoured 
to thwart it (see No. 262), just as Fielding later declared against 
the ‘ malicious applications' to his characters in Joseph A ndrews 
(ill. i). The characters are general, as Addison hints in No. 34, 
and their literary kinship with Sir Jeofirey Notch and the com¬ 
pany of the Taller is obvious. And if we consider that in the 
spectator these personal types take the place of the interests 
associated in the Taller with each coffee-house—that the gossip 
of the Grecian is in the Spectator tho wisdom of the Templar, 
and that of White’s the opinions of Will Honeycomb—we are 
still further at issue with the antiquaries. The literary in¬ 
tention of the Spectator is so manifest, that there is as little to 
be gained by speculating on the models as by individualizing 
the earlier ‘humours' of jonson and Etherege, or the characters 
of the later novel. 

PAGE 6. In a tract of 1648 against a knight. Sir Hugh Caulverley, 
there is reference to a tune called Roger of Caulverley (Ashton’s 
Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne, ii. 268-q). It appears as 
Roger of Coverly in the Second Part of the Dancing Master (1696), 
and is referred to as a popular air in The History of Robert 
Powel, the Puppet-Showman (see note on page 524). It is 
called Roger de Caubly in the 34th Taller. The tune was later 
associated with the country dance, known since the days of the 
Spectator by that name. Country dances became fashionable 
in France during the Regency (1715-23), under the name contre- 
danse, which has been erroneously supposed to be the original 
form of the word. See Budgell’s references in No. 67; also 
No. 148. 

Soho Square, originally King Square, built in 1681, was still 
a fashionable quarter for 'Lady Dainty' and her set {Tatter, 
No. 37). See Shad well's plays, passim. 



THE SPECTATOR 


516 

PAGE 6. My Lord Rochester. John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester 
(1648-80). His verses on Nothing are referred to in No. 305, 
and his Imitation of Horace is quoted in No. 91. See the adver¬ 
tisement in No. 87, A. 

Sir George Etherege (1635-91), author of The Comical Re¬ 
venge or Love in a Tub (see Nos. 44 and 127), She Would if 
she Could (No. 51), and The Man of Mode or Sir Fopling Flutter 
(No. 65). 

A Duel. See page 521. 

Bully Dawson is. on the authority of Oldys (received at 
second hand) the model of Captain Hackum, a ‘ Block-headed 
Bully,’ in Shadwell’s Squire of AIsatia (1688). 

PAGE 7. The Treatise on the Sublime had been edited by Langbaine 
(1636), and Hudson (1710), and translated by Hall (1662), by 
Pulteney (1680), and anonymously (1690); but it was chiefly 
through the French editions and translations, too numerous to 
mention, and notably the translation and commentary of 
Boileau (Englished in 1711), that the Treatise of Longinus 
affected critical theory and literary practice in England. At 
the time of this paper, Edmund Smith's translation, which 
Johnson has praised highly {Lives, ii. 242), was in MS., and 
Welsted was preparing his version for the press (1712). Cf. 
Swift’s lines on the cult of Longinus in his rhapsody On Poetry. 

The Templar treats his father’s wishes after the manner of 
Young Maggot in Shadwell’s True Widow (i. ii). 

PAGE 8. The Rose Tavern (cf. No. 36) was an actors' house in 
Brydges Street, close to Drury Lane Theatre. It is referred to 
by Swift in his Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, line 299, and 
frequently in Shadwell’s plays (especially in The Scowrers), for 
its rowdy scenes; and it is probably depicted in the third plate 
of Hogarth’s Rake’s Progress. 

Captain Sentry is said to be, as hinted above, a sketch of 
Colonel Kempenfelt, the father of the hero of the Royal George 
(see Steele's reference to Colonel Camperfelt in No. 544). 

PAGE 9. Will. Honeycomb has been explained to be a Colonel 
Cleland, who seems to have had the amorous bent of his more 
notorious namesake, the ‘biographer’ of Fanny Hill. See the 
Dictionary of National Biography, Pope's works (passim), and 
Steele’s Correspondence, edited by Nichols, page 358. The last 
volume of the Spectator is dedicated to Will. Honeycomb. 

3. PAGE 10. Motto. Lucretius, iv. 962. 

PAGE II. Addison's allegory alludes to the financial crisis follow¬ 
ing the Revolution. The Whigs, supported by ‘Sir Andrew 
Freeport’ and his friends, represented the moneyed interests; 
the Tories, with ‘Sir Roger,’ upheld the landed interests (cf. 
No. 174). It was the obvious policy of the former to maintain 
that Public Credit (as expressed by the Bank of England and 
the National Debt) would,be imperilled if the Stuarts gained 
the ascendant. The ‘ young man of about twenty-two years of 
age’ menacing the Act of Settlement, is James, son of James II, 
whose probable policy of repudiation is signified by the 'spunge.' 
The third person, whom the dreamer ‘had never seen,^ is the 



NOTES 


517 

Elector of Hanover, who came to the throne in 1714. With 
him is associated the Whig ‘Toleration’ ('Moderation leading in 
Religion') which Locke had enunciated in 1689. Cf. the refer¬ 
ence to the 'Figure of Moderation* in the 257th Toiler. The 
happy change from ‘Heaps of Paper’ to 'Pyramids of Guineas’ 
finds its historical original in Montagu’s scheme for the restora^ 
tion of the currency. One of the characters in Steele’s allegory 
in the 48th Toiler is 'Umbra, the Daemon or Genius of Credit.| 
The Tory hatred of 'commodious gold’ and ‘blest paper credit' 
has its full expression later in Pope's third epistle of the Moral 
Essays. See also Pope's Imitations of Horace [Epistles, i. i. 
65-133), his versified Satires of Donne, and Swift's letter to 
Pope, 10th January 1721. 

PAGE 12. Rehearsal. The reference is to the scene in the last act* 
where an eclipse, Luna, Orbis, and Sol are introduced. 

Et neque, etc. Ovid, Metamorphoses, iii. 491-3. 

Last line. Homer, Odyssey, x. 19. 

4. PAGE 13. Motto. Horace, Satires, ii. vi. 58. 

PAGE 14. Jesuit. See page 240. 

‘Nunquam se minus otiosum esse, quam cum otiosus, nec 
minus solum, quam cum solus esset.'—Cicero, De Officiis, 
in. i (cf. Rogers's Human Life (Aldine edition, page 130), 
and Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, in. xc). A fair pro¬ 
portion of the many allusions to Cicero (which so embarrassed 
Simon Honeycomb) refers to the De Officiis. Cockman’s 
Tully’s Offices in English, published by Buckley, reached a 
third edition in 1714. 

PAGE 15. Young thing. 'Blooming Beauty’ in A. 

PAGE x6. The Tatler in its opening number had likewise announced 
its interest in feminine affairs. The Spectator’s polite attention 
to the ladies prompted Swift to say, ‘ I will not meddle with the 
^ectator. Let him fair sex it to the world’s end' [Journal to 
Stella, 8th February 1711-12). Compare Addison’s further 
plea in No. 10, and Belvidera’s letter in No. 205. Addison’s 
delicate pleasantries on feminine foibles, in the Tatler and 
spectator, so took the public fancy that they became the pre¬ 
vailing topics of the humorous and light literature of his time. 
Much of The Rape of the Lock, for example, is distinctly inspired 
by these witty sketches (see note to page 213). "rhe ‘Tea- 
Table’ represented the domestic and feminine interests in con¬ 
trast to those associated with the ‘Coffee-house.’ References 
to this antithesis are numerous in the Spectator and contemporary 
literature (‘Here no Chit-Chat, here no Tea-Tables are.'—Shad- 
well’s Squire of Alsatia, Epilogue). Steele wrote a short-lived 
paper csdled the Tea-Table (founded on 17th December 1715), 
and another called Chit-Chat (6th March 1716); and Allan 
Ramsay, in 1724, published his Tea-Table Miscellany. The 
Tea-Table (36 numbers) appeared in London in 1724. 

5. PAGE 17. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 5. 

Ad^son’s papers on the opera and dramatic en seine 
generally emphasize the sentiments of the Tatler and antici¬ 
pate the criticism of Pope [Dunciad, book iii, and Epistle to. 



518 


THE SPECTATOR 


Augustus). They may have a personal interest in connection 
with the disaster to Addison's opera of Rosamond in April 1706. 
See also No. 18. The raillery of the Spectator recalls the gibes 
in Saint-Evremond’s Les Opiras. 

PAGE 17. Nicolini. See Grimaldi, Nicolino, in B, I, 

Addison illustrates his criticism of histrionic absurdities from 
the opera of Rinaldo (see below), in which we have fire-spitting 
dragons (i. v, vii), a boat in an open sea (ii. iii), a 'real' water¬ 
fall (ill. i), and thunder and lightning (in. ii). In his satire 
on the introduction of living birds, he is referring to the stage 
direction in i. vi, where 'birds are heard to sing, and seen flying 
up and down among the trees,' during the flute symphony to 
Augelletti che cantate. See also No. 14, and the advertisement 
.to No. 36. 

Sir Martin Mar-all or The Feigned Innocence, a popular 
comedy (first acted on i6th August 1776), adapted by Dryden 
from the Duke of Newcastle's translation of Moli^re's L’Etourdi, 
and from Quinault's L'Amant indiscret. The reference is to 
the first scene of the fifth act, where Sir Martin, after the 
conclusion of the serenade to Mrs. Millisent, sung and played 
by his man Warner in the next room, 'continues fumbling 
and gazing on his mistress.' Whereupon she says: ‘A pretty 
humoured song. But stay, methinks he plays and sings still, 
and yet we cannot hear him. Play louder. Sir Martin, that 
we may have the fruits on't.' 

PAGE 18. The opera of Rinaldo, Handel's first venture on the 
English stage, was produced at the Haymarket on 24th Feb¬ 
ruary 1711, and ran for fifteen nights. The libretto, which is 
founded on a well-known episode in Tasso's Gerusalemme 
liberata, was by Giacomo Rossi, and was translated by Aaron 
Hill: hence 'the two Poets of different Nations.' See No. 14. 
Addison refers to, and quotes from, the English and Italian 
edition of the libretto published in 1711 by Thomas Howlatt. 

Hendel or Handel, the composer, known as Handel to later 
generations in England. Aaron Hill writes Hendel in his 
preface to Rinaldo. In the original issue Addison had given 
Handel the Italian title of Seignior, which he corrected in an 
erratum in the following number. 

PAGE 19. Monsieur Boileau. Satires, ix; 

Tous los jours h la cour un sot de quality 
Peut iuger de travers avec impunity; 

A Malherbe, & Racan, pr6f6rer Thfiophile, 

Et le clinquant du Tasse d tout Vor de Virgile. 

See also VArt poMique, iii. 205 et sqq.; Reflexions sur Longin, 
ii. Addison makes a like comparison in Nos. 279 and 369. 

Whittington and his Cat. Cf. No. 14, which informs us that 
Powell, the showman, had (probably on this hint from Addison) 
set up Whittington against Rinaldo and Armida; also Toiler, 
No. 78. . 

Christopher Rich, manager of Drury Lane, the ‘ Kitt Crotchet’ 
of No. 258, and the 'Divito' of the Toiler (Nos. 12, 42, and 99) 



NOTES 


519 

He was the father of * Harlequin' Rich, the ‘ immortal Rich ’ of 
The Dunciad (iii. 261). See B. I. 

PAGE ig. London and Wise, a famous firm of gardeners, referred 
to at greater length in No. 477, and eulogized by Evelyn in the 
Advertisement to his translation of Quintinye’s Compleat 
Gardener (1693). Their nursery at Brompton Park, near 
Kensington, so impressed the author of Sylva Sylvarum, that 
he wrote; 'I cannot therefore forbear to publish . . . what we 
can and are able to perform in this part of Agriculture', and 
have some Amocnities and advantages peculiar to our own, 
which neither France, nor any other Country can attain to; and 
is much due to the industry of Mr. London and Mr. Wise, and 
to such as shall imitate their Laudable Undertakings.' London 
and Wise expounded their views in The Retir'd Gard’ner (a 
translation of Sieur Louis Liger's book) in 1711, and gave a 
minute description of Count Tallard’s formal garden at Not¬ 
tingham. See the description of Leonora's garden in No. 37. 
They made fashionable the formal Dutch style, which in its 
later years of excess was satirized by Pope in his fourth Moral 
Essay (lines 113-26). Pope, too^ ‘twisted and twirled' (to 
borrow Horace Walpole’s phrase) his Twickenham garden in 
direct protest to the formal ideas of the earlier decades. This 
later and contrary style, practised by the gardeners Bridgeman 
and Kent, and applauded by Walpole, gave to the Continent, 
through the Duke of Nivernois's translation of Walpole’s Essay 
on Modern Gardening, the jardin d Vanglaise, For information 
on orange groves and orange-trees, so frequently named in 
these papers, the reader is referred to Evelyn's supplementary 
Treatise of Orange-trees, which deals with this ‘Master-Piece of 
Gard'ning.' An interesting copperplate of a formal garden 
introduces the essay. Cf, also Sir W. Temple's description of 
the garden of Moor Park [Miscellanea)] The Dutch Gardener or 
The Compleat Florist, from the Dutch of Henry Van Oosten, 
‘the Leiden Gardener,’ advertised in No, 32 [A)] and Kip’s 
plates in Atkyns’s Gloucestershire (folio, 1712). 

6. PAGE 20. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, xiii. 54. 

PAGE 21, The words in italics are not, as Henry Morley has stated, 
a r6sum6 of Blackmore's forthcoming poem on the Creation, but 
a quotation from three sentences of the Preface to his Prince 
Arthur (third edition, ‘corrected,' 1696). Steele’s approving 
reference supplements the Tatler’s quizzical apology for the 
ridicule of the Advice to the Poets (Nos. 3, 14), and may be con¬ 
sidered as a puff preliminary to Sir Richard’s ‘philosophical 
poem,' which Addison, prompted by stronger religious sym¬ 
pathies, praises in No. 339 of the Spectator. This approval and 
that shown by Dennis, and later by Johnson [Lives, iii. 74). 
stand in marked contrast to the contempt entertained for 
‘Quack Maurus* by Dryden, Swift, Pope, and Grub Street 
generally—a contempt which may not be entirely explained by 
Blackmore's attack on the coterie at Will’s in. hi» Satyr against 
Wit (1700). Addison, if we believe Swift, heartily despised 
the man (Scott's Swift, xii. 140). 



520 


THE SPECTATOR 


PAGE 21. Budgell apologizes for the coarseness of the character ol 
the sloven from Theophrastus—a coarseness 'which the Polite¬ 
ness of the present age would never have endured ’ (Characters of 
Theophrastus, Preface). 

7. PAGE 22. Motto. Horace, Epistles, 11. ii. 207. 

PAGE 23. Childermas or Innocents’ Day (28th December) was, 
like Friday, a ‘cross day,’ on which ‘it was impossible to have 
good luck,’ especially if work was attempted (cf. Swift, Direc¬ 
tions to Servants: 'The Cook'). If the 'little boy' had com¬ 
ported himself according to Strype (1720), he would have gone 
to 'Paul's Church’ on that day. Mr. Spectator's reflection on 
the losing of a day ' in every week ’ is not clear. J. Rayner, the 
well-known writing-master at Paul’s School, published at this 
time, from his house at the sign of the Hand and Pen, 'The 
Paul’s Scholars Copy-Book, containing the Round and Round- 
Text hands, with Alphabets at large of the Greek and Hebrew, 
and Joyning pieces of each. . . .’ 

Lord Galway was defeated at Almanza on 25th (14th, O.S.) 
April 1707. 

Line 35. Quitting. 'Cleaning’ in A. 

8. PAGE 25. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, i. 411. 

The Society for the Reformation of Manners (founded in 
1690) was, in the words of antiquary Strype, ‘designed to con- 
troul Looseness’ and to punish those ‘distempering themselves 
by excess of drink and breaking the Sabbath.’ It boasted, in 
the report for 1708, of having prosecuted no fewer than 3,299 
persons. This number fell in 1714 to 2,571, and in 1716 to 
1,820': which decline is accepted as a proof that ‘a visible re¬ 
formation hatli ensued,’ despite the opposition of the ‘ advocates 
for Debauchery.’ (See Strype's edition of Stowe’s Survey, 
1720, II. V. 30.) Steele, in No. 3 of the Tatler, confesses his 
sympathy with the society. 

PAGE 26. The masquerades, referred to again in Nos. 14, 22 
(advertisement), and 158, had become a cause of scandal under 
the management of the notorious Swiss Count Heidegger 
(see B. /.). Hogarth satirizes these entertainments in his 
engravings, ‘Masquerades and Operas,’ on the ‘Taste of the 
Town’ (1724) and the ‘Large Masquerade Ticket’ (1727); and 
Fielding attacks them in his Masquerade (1728). Pope alludes 
in The Dunciad to the 'strange bird from Switzerland’ (i. 290). 
An advertisement in No. 53 announces that a masquerade will 
be held ‘at the request of several foreigners’ on 1st May at 
Old Spring Garden. 

The Counter was a prison attached to a city court. 

PAGE 27. Waller. To Vandyck, lines 5-8. 

PAGE 28. Grand Cairo. See page 513. 

Mr. Spectator's humorous decision to visit the masquerade 
is in exact parallel with Mr. Bickerstaff’s reply to the petition 
of the linendrapers against low dresses {Taller, No. 215). 

9. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, xv. 163. 

Addison’s description of the eccentric clubs (perhaps in part 
mythical) will readily be compared with Goldsmith's humorous 



NOTES 


521 

sketches in his Essays (especially i) and in his Citizen of the 
World (29, 30). The more fantastic of these clubs call to mind 
others in the Edinburgh of that day—the Easy, the Pious (for 
pies, not piety), the Dirty, the Black-Wig, the Hell-Fire, the 
Industrious, and many others. 

PAGE 29. Hum-Drum Club. Goldsmith refers to a club of this 
name in his Essays, i. ‘If he be phlegmatic, he may sit in 
silence at the Humdrum Club in Ivy Lane.' 

The Club of Duellists. The subject of the duello is discussed 
in Nos. 84, 91, 97, 99, and more fully in the Taller, Nos. 23, 26, 
28, 29, 31, 38, 39, and in the Preface to the fourth volume of 
the collected Tatlers. Steele returns to his criticism of it in the 
Guardian, and in The Lying Lover (v. i). 

PAGE 30. The Kit-Cat Club, founded in 1700, was composed of a 
number of Whig peers and men of letters, who met weekly at 
the house of one Christopher Kat, a pastry-cook in Shire Lane. 
Christopher was an artist in mutton pies, and so tempted the 
public palate that, says the Prologue to The Reformed Wife 
(1700): 

though the town all delicates afford, 

A Kit-Kat is a supper for a lord. 

Jacob Tonson primus, 'obstetrix Musarum,’ acted as secretary, 
and about 1703 transferred the club to his villa at Barn Elms 
in Surrey. In this house were hung the famous set of portraits 
of the members by Kneller, which had been presented to Tonson 
by the sitters. The membership of forty included the Wliig 
leaders Halifax and Somers, and Dryden, Vanbrugh, Congreve, 
Addison, Garth, Steele, and Walsh. Pope and Gay sometimes 
visited the club, and on one occasion drank the health of Swift, 
who had set up the Tory Society of Brothers as an antidote to 
the political influence of the Kit-Cat. The verses written to be 
engraved on the ' toasting-glasses' are perhaps the only literary 
records of the club, but the literature of the time is strewed 
with witty references to its proceedings. See, in especial, 
Blackmore’s verses on the Kit-Cat and the epigram (by Pope.?) 
in the Miscellanies of 1727 (Elwin and Courthope, iv. 446). 
A handsome volume by Faber, entitled The Kit-Cat Club, done 
from the original paintings of Sir Godfrey Kneller, was published 
by Tonson in 1735. See Nichols, Anecdotes, i. 293, etc. The 
name is preserved in the familiar size of canvas (36 inches by 
28 inches), which Tonson's space is said to have made Kneller's 
choice. 

The Beefsteak Club, the first of that name, met in a tavern 
in Old Jewry, and had Dick Estcourt, the actor, for its provedore 
(see No. 264, etc., and B. /.). Cf. Dr. King’s Art of Cookery: 

He that of honour, wit, and mirth partakes, 

May be a fit companion o’er beef steaks. 

His name may be to future times enrolled 
In Estcourt’s book, whose gridiron’s made of gold. 

Estcourt wore a small gold gridiron as his badge bf office. 

The October Club, the Tory rival of the Kit-Cat, met at the , 
Bell Tavern in King Street, Westminster, and drank to the 



522 


THE SPECTATOR 


confusion of Whig politics in October ale. See Swift's Advice to 
the Members of the October Club. The Secret History of the October 
Club, by a member, was published in 1711 (advertisement in 
No. 45. ^). 

PAGES 30-1. Cf. Goldsmith's account of the club of Moral Philo¬ 
sophers (ITssays, i). Ben Jonson's Leges Convivales were cut 
in gold letters over the chimney of the Apollo Club room in the 
old Devi] Tavern at Temple Bar. The text is printed in Lang- 
baine (1691). page 284. in Gifford's Jonson, ix, and in Cunning¬ 
ham's, iii. 364. See also No. 72, and Taller, No. 79. 

PAGE 31. Justus Lipsius, commentator and antiquary. His 
works were published in three thick volumes in 1675. His 
De Ritu Conviviorum apud Romanos will be found in volume iii, 
page 1476. 

10. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, i. 201. 

The circulation of tlie Spectator is said to have risen from 
3,000 to 4,000, to 20,000, and even to 30,000 copies. 10,000 
copies probably represented the average issue during the closing 
months of the daily issue. See the particulars in Addisoniana 
in Hurd's edition, vi. 688, and Drake's Essays, i. 82, iii. 326. 
To this must be added the sale in volume form, which up to the 
date of the cessation of the daily issue amounted to 9,000 
copies. (Nos. 227 (advertisement), 283 (advertisement), 488, 
and 555 ) 

PAGE 32. For the phrase ‘Tea Equipage’ cf. Tatler, No. 86. 

Bacon, Advancement of Learning, Pope 
uses the simile, but more correctly, in the Essay on Man, ii. 132. 

Muscovy or Poland. This is a sly reference to the ' Uphol¬ 
sterer’ of the Tatler, whose 'crack towards politics’ made him 
‘much more inquisitive to know what passed in Poland than in 
his own family,’ and caused him to be concerned 'by some news 
he had lately read from Muscovy ’ (Nos. 155,160, and 178). ' Oh, 

I love Gazettes extreamly . . says Clodpate, in Shadwell’s 
Epsom Wells, 'they are such pretty penn'd Things; and I do 
love to hear of Wisnowisky, Potosky, General Wrangle, and 
Count Tot, and all those brave fellows’ (i. i). 

PAGE 33. The Female World. See No. 4 and note, and No. 205. 

11. PAGE 34. Motto. Juvenal, ii. 63. 

The story of the Ephesian matron is first told in the Saty- 
ricon of Petronius Arbiter (Paris edition, 1587, page 64). It 
reappears in the Middle Ages in the popular Historia Septem 
Sapientum (edited by G. Buchner, 1889, page 64). . La Fon¬ 
taine's La Matrone d’Ephise was printed with the twelfth book 
of Fables, published by Barbin, Paris, 1694. See also Chap¬ 
man's Widow's Tears and Otway’s Venice Preserved (ii. i). 

PAGE 35. The Fable of the Lion and the Man is La Fontaine's Le 
Lion abattu par VHomme {Fables, in. x). 

A True and Exact History of the Island of Barbados. By 
Richard Ligon, Cent, was published in folio, in 1657, and in a 
second edition in 1673. Steele’s reference applies to either 
edition. Poor Yarico, who 'for her love lost her liberty,’ is 
thus described: 'An Indian woman, a slave in the house, who 



NOTES 


523 


was of excellent shape and colour, for it was a pure bright bay; 
small breasts, with the niples of a porphyrie colour: this woman 
would not be woo’d by any means to wear Cloaths.' Inkle does 
not appear in Ligon’s book, and may have been satirically in¬ 
vented, as Austin Dobson suggests {Selections from Steele, page 
483), from the name of an inferior kind of tape. The word, 
here so suitably applied to such a haberdasher, will be found 
in its ordinary sense on page 143 (see note). Steele's interest 
in Barbados was more than literary, for he had inherited, in 
1706, from his first wife, Mrs. Margaret Stretch, a plantation 
there, worth per annum. 

12. PAGE 37. Motto. Persius, Satires ii. 63. 

The Daily Courant, printed by Samuel Buckley, ‘the learned 
printer' of the Gazette, the Monthly Register, and the Spectator. 
Steele praises it in the 178th Tatler. 

PAGE 40. This paper gives the first hint in the Spectator of Addi¬ 
son’s interest in Paradise Lost (No. 262 onwards), of which he 
had already shown a youthful appreciation in the Account of the 
Greatest English Poets (1693). The quotation is from iv. 675-88, 
and the reference is to i. 252-3 of Hesiod's Works and Days'. 

Tplt ykp juOpiol elffiv itrl yOorl irovXv^OTelprj 
dddraroi ^iJXa/cey 6vtjtC>p dvOpdiiruv. 

Addison's admiration of Paradise Lost had been anticipated in 
the Tatler {passim, especially No. 237); and both authors may 
have known Patrick Hume's Commentary, London, 1695. 

13. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, xii. xciii. 

Hydaspes {LTdaspe fedele), an opera in three acts, was first 
produced on 23rd May 1710. The addition of the Italian- 
English libretto (1712) contains a dedication by Nicolino 
Grimaldi {ante, page 17), who took the part of Hydaspes. He 
is thrown naked to a lion and, after expostulation in the minor 
key, overcomes the stage brute by the musical valour of the 
major. (See Sutherland Edwards, History of the Opera, i. 117.) 
Addison’s ‘exhortation’ to English actors is on the lines of 
Steele's account of Grimaldi in the 115th Tatler\ ‘Our best 
Actors are somewhat at a loss to support themselves with 
proper Gesture, as they move from any considerable Distance 
to the Front of the Stage.' 

Recitative. See page 87 and note. Cf. Rehearsal: 'I make 
'em, sirs, play the battle in recitativo' (v. i). 

PAGE 42. The famous E^estrian Statue. This is the earlier 
equestrian statue of Henry IV on the Pont Neuf. It was 
erected in 1635, and demolished and melted into cannon in 1792. 

14. PAGE 43. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, iv. 590. 

Fable of the Lion, etc. See page 35. 

PAGE 44. Addison in Ws college days had made merry in Latin 
hexameters on Machinae Gesticulantes, anglice a Puppet-show 
(Hurd, i. 249), and Fielding, eighteen years after the writing of 
this paper, complains: ‘When the theatres are puppet-shows, 
and the comedians ballad-singers, when fools lead the town, 
would a man think to thrive by his wit? ’ {The Author’s Farce). 



524 


THE SPECTATOR 


These years were, in the words of Charles Magnin, the historian 
of marionettes, the golden age of puppets in England. 

Martin Powell had already (1709) supplied the Taller with a 
subject for satire (Nos. 44, 50, 77, and 115), and his continued 
success as the leading puppet-showman is further borne out by 
the satirical attentions of the Spectator. He was then ex¬ 
hibiting in the Little Piazza, on the east side of Covent Garden 
south of the present Russell Street, to the great hurt of the 
regular drama (cf. Hogarth's plate of a Just View of the British 
Stage, 1725). He wrote a number of plays for his puppets, and 
established the traditions of action of the modern ‘ Punch and 
Judy,' though his Punchinello retained many of the character¬ 
istics of its Italian ancestry. See the engraving in Burnet's 
Second Tale of a Tub or The History of Robert Powel, the Puppet- 
Showman (1715). He is called simply ‘Powell’ or ‘Mr. Powell’ 
in the Taller and Spectator: the name ‘Robert' appears in 
Burnet’s pamphlet, which was a satire on Robert Harley, Earl 
of Oxford. He must not be confounded with his contemporary 
George Powell, the actor. (See B. I.) 

The undertaker of the masquerade is referred to ante, 
page 520. 

PAGE 45. Arcadia. See note, page 533. 

Motion is the old word for either a puppet or a puppet-show. 
Cf. Shakespeare, Winter’s Tale, iv. iii. 103, Two Gentlemen of 
Verona, ii. i. 100, etc.; Ben Jonson, Bartholomew Fair, v. i and iii. 

See the reference to the representation of Rinaldo, page 518, 
Whittington and his Cat, ib. Defoe in his Groans of Great 
Britain, 1713, gives Powell’s advertisement of Whittington 
(H. Morley’s Spectator, 52, note). 

PAGE 46. Pig. Powell's repertoire included ' the pleasant and 
comical humours of Valentini, Nicolini, and the tuneful warbling 
pig of Italian race.' (Dedication to Burnet's pamphlet, men¬ 
tioned above.) 

Susanna was a favourite subject for puppet plays. Henry 
Morley quotes a copy of verses, dated 1665, describing these 
entertainments: 

Their Sights are so rich, is able to bewitch 
The heart of a very fine man-a; 

Here's Patient Grtsel here, and Fair Rosamond there, 

And the History of Susanna. 

Punch soon set himself up as a censor morum and gained no 
little reputation as a political oracle. Perhaps his most success¬ 
ful blow was levelled against the French Prophets of Moorfields. 
Addison, in No. 34, threatens to reprimand the puppet-moralist 
if he grows too extravagant. 'The Taller had complained of 
the attacks of the * rake-hell' puppet. 

The original issue contains the following advertisement; ‘ On 
the first of April will be performed at the Play house in the Hay- 
market, an Opera calVd 'The Cruelty of Atreus. N.B. The 
Scene wherein 'Thyestes eats his own children, is to be performed 
by the famous Mr. Psalmanazar, lately arrived from Formosa: 
The whole Supper being set to Kettle-drums.‘ 'iW joke at the 



NOTES 


525 

expense of the notorious George Psalmanazar, the ‘Formosan 
convert' (1680-1763), was not reprinted till some time after 
Steele's death. Swift introduces him in his Modest Proposal 
for Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland from being 
a Burden to their Parents or Country (1729). 

15. PAGE 47. Motto. Ovid, Ars Amatoria, i. 159. 

This paper shows at many points a kinship with La Bruydre's 
'Des Femmes' in the CaracUres (iii). See especially No. 77. 
La Bruy^re was a favourite also with the Toiler', cf. the trans< 
cription in No. 57. 

PAGE 49. Totumque. etc. Aeneid, xi. 781-2. 

16. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. i. ii. 

The muff was an ornament of the male fashionable. ‘ Cibber 
ingross’d the fops, the men of muffs, red heels and ribbons' 
{Original Letters to the Toiler, etc., 1725). It is named among 
the ‘shabby superfluities' of the 'Upholsterer' {Toiler, No. 155). 

PAGE 50. The Rainbow in Fleet Street, near the gate of the Inner 
Temple, was established in 1656 by a barber, James Farr, who 
carried on his double business for a time (H. Morley). 

Fringed Gloves. See Nos. 30 and 31 1 . Red heels and red 
stockings were fashionable. Cf. Toiler, No. 113. The 'rivers' 
in No. 29 appeared in red stockings. 

PAGE 51. Drawcansir, the hero of The Rehearsal, whose bombast 
is intended as a parody of the extravagances of the character of 
Almanzor in Dryden's Conquest of Granada. 

17. PAGE 52. Motto. Juvenal, x. 191. 

Further disquisitions on 'Ugly Clubs’ will be found in Nos. 
32, 48, 52, 78, and 87. 

PAGE 53. Paul Scarron (i6ro-6o), author of the Roman comique, 
married in 1652 Mile d'Aubign^, afterwards Madame de Main- 
tenon. He was deformed by rheumatism from his twenty- 
seventh year. His pleasantries on himself are in the Preface 
to the Reader ' who has never seen me' (prefixed to the Relation 
veritable) : ' Les autres [disent] que mon chapeau tient k une 
corde qui passe dans une poulie, et que je le hausse et baisse 
pour saluer ceux qui me visitent. Je pense 6tre oblige en 
conscience de les emp^cher de mentir plus longteraps, et c'est 
pour cela que j 'af fait faire la planche que tu vois au commence¬ 
ment de mon livre . . . Mes cuisses et mon corps en sont un 
autre, et ma tfete se penchant sur mon estomac, je ne ressemble 
pas mal k un Z.' 

The Prince and Falsta^n 2 Henry IV, ii. iii. 235-40. 

For my own part. Steele is quizzing at his own expense. 
The portraits by Kneller and Thornhill show the 'shortness of 
his face’ to which there is constant reference throughout these 
papers. 

PAGE 54. Grand Cairo. See page 513. 

Aesop's ugliness is described with realistic detail in his Life 
by Maximus Planudes, and is referred to in the life by La Fon¬ 
taine, prefixed to the Fables. The ill-favoured Thorsites appears 
in the second book of the Iliad. The deformities of Duns 
Scotus were probably the exaggeration of his opponents the 



526 


THE SPECTATOR 


Thomists, and through them became a tradition. The personal 
appearance of Hudibras is drawn in i. i, 240 et sqq. 'The old 
Gentleman’ is Loyola in Oldham’s Satyrs upon the Jesuits (iii). 

PAGE 55. Mother Shipton’s prophecies, first published in 1641, 
were a favourite chap-book subject. See Ashton's Chap Books 
of the Eighteenth Century, page 88. 

18. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 187. 

PAGE 56. The English opera of Arsinoe, Queen of Cyprus, partly a 
translation from the Italian and partly an adaptation of a piece 
by Peter Motteux, was produced at Drury Lane on 16th 
January 1705. The score was written by Thomas Clayton, 
whose musical incapacity, two years later, ruined Addison's 
Rosamond. The Spectator's italics, which may be compared 
with Cibber’s statement in the note to page 121, recall the 
disaster. In concert advertisements in the Spectator, Clayton 
is described as ‘the author of Arsinoe ' {A). 

Nothing is capable, etc. Cf. the later phrase from Beaumar¬ 
chais: ‘Aujourd’hui ce qui ne vaut pas la peine’d’etre dit on le 
chante ’ {Le Mariage de Figaro). Boileau, speaking of Quinault’s 
verses, had said: 'C'6tait leur faiblesse meme qui les rendait 
d’autant plus propres pour le musicien’ {Rdflexions sur Longin, 
iii). 

Camilla was the second opera in the Italian manner sung in 
England. It was composed by Marcantonio Buononcini, and 
was produced at Drury Lane by subscription on 29th March 
1706. It was sung half in English and half in Italian. Mrs. 
Tofts, who had taken the part in Arsinoe, played Camilla in 
English, while 'Valentini, as the hero, sang in Italian. (See 
Edwards, History of the Opera, i. 109.) The libretto, supposed 
to be by Owen MacSwincy, bears the imprint 'London 1706.’ 

PAGE 57. Addison’s friend Edmund Smith (see page 516) produced 
Phaedra and Hippolitus in 1709—‘a consummate tragedy’ ex¬ 
celling the Greek and Latin Phaedra and 'the French one,' says 
Johnson {Lives, ii. 236). It ran only four nights, even with 
Betterton, Booth, Mrs. Barry, and Mrs. Oldfield in the cast. 
Addison wrote the Prologue, in which he joined issue with the 
lovers of Italian opera. See Genest, ii. ^68-72. 

PAGE 58. Plato, Republic, iii. 

19. Motto. Horace, Satires, i. iv. 17. 

Sir Francis Bacon. Essays, ix ('Of Envy'), § x. 

20. PAGE 60. Motto. Homer, Iliad, i. 225. 

This is a companion paper to No. 145 of the Tatler, which 
discusses these 'professed Enemies to the Repose of the Fair 
Sex.’ It may be compared with Nos. 22 and 262 of the Tatler, 
and Nos. 46, 53, and 250 of the Spectator. 

21. PAGE 63. Motto. Horace, Epistles, 1. v. 28. 

PAGE 64. VirgiVs Artny. Aeneid, x. 432-3. 

PAGE 65. Northern Hive. 'This part of Scythia, in its whole 
northern extent, I take to haVe been the vast hive out of which 
issued so*mighty swarms of barbarous nations,' etc.—Temple’s 
Works (1754 edition), ii. 273. 

A more elaborate hit at the virtuosi had been made in the 



NOTES 


527 

Taller (Nos. 210, 221), where Steele gave the will of Sir Nicholas 
Gimcrack, whom Shadwell had introduced to the public in his 
comedy The Virtuoso. 

22. PAGE 66. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 188. 

The wild boar in Camilla (page 56) is slain by a dart thrown 
by the heroine, played by Mrs. Tofts. It is included in the 
humorous inventory of stage effects in No. 42 of the Taller. 

PAGE 67. Lion in Hydaspes. See page 523. 

The Emperor of the Moon, a three-act farce, was an adapta¬ 
tion by Mrs. Aphra Behn of a French Harlequin play, entitled 
Harlequin I'Empereur dans Ic Monde de la Lune. It wa.s 
produced in 1687, and was often revived. See below. 

The Fortune Hunters or Two Fools Well Met, by James 
Carlile, was first played at Drury Lane in 1689. The reference 
is to the farcical situation in Act ii, where the inebriated Mr. 
Spruce encounters his wife's gallant by the pump in the garden 
and mistakes an arm for a pump-handle. (Sec Genest, i. 473.) 
It was performed at the Haymarket on 10th June and 31st 
October 1707. 

The last line of Ralph Simple's letter refers to Act 11, sc. iii 
of The Emperor of the Moon. There Scaramouch places a com¬ 
pany of masqueraders ‘ all in the Hanging, in which they make 
the Figures, where they stand without Motion in Postures.* 
Harlequin is ‘placed on a Tree in the Hangings,' and the am¬ 
bitious Simple hopes to pose by an orange-tree in this fantastic 
tapestry. See the account in Genest, i. 457-8. 

PAGE 68. Fletcher's Pilgrim, iii. v, 'the interior of a madhouse.’ 
Mr. Spectator’s correspondent played the part of the English 
madman, who calls from his cell: ‘Give me some drink.' The 
first keeper interposes: ‘Oh, there's the Englishman,' who 
thereupon exclaims: ‘ Fill me a thousand pots and froth ’em, 
frotli ’em.’ The piece had been recently played at the Hay- 
market, on loth October 1710. 

Line 22. Ass. ‘Horse’ in A. 

,, King Latinus is a character in the opera of Camilla (page 56) 
who speaks a number of lines in recitative in ii. x, including 
these given in the text. The unfortunate actor, who had been 
sent off to the French war, is not named in the book of the play 
(see No. 53). He is also the butt of the Taller (see No. 145). 

PAGE 69. The Advertisement satirizes the masquerade (page 26). 

23. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, ix. 420. 

PAGE 70. A Passage. Plato, Phaedo, § 40; Aristophanes, The Clouds. 

Catullus. Carmina, xxxi. 

Claude Quillet's (Calvidii Leti) Callipaedia, in Latin verse 
(Leyden, 1655), contained a scoffing reference to Cardinal 
Mazarin’s Sicilian origin, iv, page 48 (10-13) and page 50 (21-2), 
the latter as follows: 

Quid loquar ut blandc Galla excipiatur in Aula 
Ad vena, Trinacriis etiam devectus ab oris. 

This was omitted in the second (1656) and later Paris editions. 
Quillet's recompense was, as Addison says, a ' good Abby< worth 
400 pistoles. An English verse translation, conjoined with one 



THE SPECTATOR 


528 


of Sainte-Marthe's Paedotrophia, appeared on 5th May 1711 
(see advertisement in ^ 4 ). 

PACK 70. The statue of Pasquin in the Piazza di Pasquino by the 
Braschi Palace in Rome, so called from its having been found 
below the stall of the satirical cobbler Pasquino, was a place 
dear to the Roman populace for the publication of lampoons 
('pasquinades,' 'pasquils') on public men and events (cf. No. 
427). Opposite this idle comer stood the statue of Marforio, 
which, according to the ready wit of the mob, conversed with 
its neighbour. In this lively play of question and answer on 
the pedestals of the statues the public preserved the tradition 
of the libellous gossip of the cobbler's booth. Pope Sixtus V 
had by his elevation brought fortune and state to his sister 
Camilla, who, like the later Madame Sans-Gfine, had been a 
laundress. Hence the joke about the 'dirty shirt.' For the 
historical evidences of this tale see Ranke's History of the Popes, 
III, § iv, and the notes in Thomas Arnold's Addison (Clarendon 
Press), pages 487-8. Steele introduces Pasquin in the Tatler, 
notably in Nos. 129, 140, and 187 (letters from Pasquin of Rome 
to Isaac Bickerstaff of Great Britain) and the Advertisement 
to No. 130: and Fielding entitled one of his minor pieces 
Pasquin: a dramatick satire on the Times (1736). 

PAGE 71. Aretine. Pietrod'Arezzo (1492-1557), known as Aretino. 

PAGE 72. A Fable, Sir Roger L'Estrange’s Fables of Aesop, etc., 
second edition, 1694, page 368. 

Easter Day in 1711 fell on ist April (O.S.) or 5th April (N.S.). 

24. Motto. Horace, Satires, i. ix. 3. 

Such Fellows. ‘These People ' in A. 

PAGE 73. Clinch of Barnet, showman, referred to in No. 31. 

PAGE 75. The Day I keep. References to this new fashion are 
plentiful in contemporary literature. Cf. ‘Visiting Days’ in 
the advertisement on page 109; also page 248. 'A well-bred 
Man would as soon c^l upon a Lady (who keeps a Day) at 
Midnight, as on any Day but that on which she professes being 
at home' {Tatler, No. 166). Cf. also Tatler, No. 109, and Shad- 
well's True Widow, lii. i. The Ladies Visiting Day, attributed 
to Burnaby, from which Cibber took material for his Double 
Gallant, was played in 1701 (see Genest, ii. 241). 

Kidney. The waiter at the St. James's Coffee-house (see 
Tatler, passim). 

25. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, xii. 46. 

Mr. Spectator returns to his fun at the expense of the Vale¬ 
tudinarians in Nos. 143, 429, 440, and 573. See also No. 100; 
and Tatler, Nos. 16 and 77. 

Thomas Sydenham, the physician, wrote a treatise on fevers 
which appeared in Latin {Methodus Curandi Febres) in 1666. A 
brief account of his life was written by Samuel Johnson (Bos¬ 
well's Johnson, edited by Hill, i. 153). 

PAGE 76. Santorio (Sanctorius Sanctorius) of Padua (died 1636) 
first demonstrated the bearing of perspiration in the 'animal 
economy' in his De Medicina Statica Aphorismorum Sectiones 
vii, octavo, Venice, 1614. A reprint, with a Latin commentary 



NOTES 


529 


by M. Lister, was published in London in 1701, but it had been 
Englished by ‘ J. D.' as early as 1676. It was again translated 
into English, in 1712, by John Quincy. Cf. Shad well’s True 
Widow, in which young Maggot cures his fatness by ' the exercise 
of the mind,’ and has ‘an engine to weigh himself when he sits 
down to write or think.’ 

PAGE 77. Stavo, etc. Addison probably borrowed this from 
Dryden. It is given in the Dedication of the Aeneis {Works, 
edited by Scott and Saintsbury, xiv. 149). Henry Morley says; 

‘The old English reading is: “I was well; I would be better; and 
here I am.”’ Cf. Shakespeare's ‘Striving to better, oft we mar 
what’s weir {King Lear, 1. i. 347). 

That Point of Felicity. Addison refers to a line in Martial’s 
Epigrams, x. xlvii; ‘Summum nec metuas diem nec optes,' a 
sentiment expressed by Milton in Paradise Lost, xi. 553. 

26. PAGE 78. Motto. Horace, Odes, 1. iv. 13. 

PAGE 79. rXaCffov, etc. Homer,//iatf, xvii. 216. Glaucumque, etc. 
Virgil, Aeneid, vi. 483. 

Sir Cloudesley Shovel’s monument stands in the south aisle 
of the choir of St. Paul’s. 

PAGE 80. Austin Dobson has compared the concluding paragraph 
with the well-known apostrophe to Death by Raleigh, to show 
the difierence in style between the eighteenth century and the 
seventeenth {Eighteenth Century Essays, page 260). 

27. PAGE 81. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. i. 20. 

PAGE 82. The Clergyman is introduced in the second paper. 

28. PAGE 83. Motto. Horace, Odes, ii. x. 19. 

PAGE 84. In A the sentence, lines 1-3, reads:' It is as follows.’ 

Cf. with this paper No. i8 of the Taller, where the supervision 
of street signs is humorously proposed. The prevalence of 
signboards in London is a familiar feature of Hogarth’s street 
scenes. The numbering of the doors in the streets was almost 
unknown. Prescott Street, Goodman’s Fields, is mentioned 
as being marked by numbers in 1708* (Halton’s New View, 
quoted by Henry Morley), but the fashion did not set in till 
Parliament had, in 1762, condemned the swinging signboards 
as a public nuisance. In 1764 New Burlington Street was 
numbered in the modern way. 

PAGE 85. The ingenious Mrs. Salmon’s waxworks are referred to 
again in Nos. 31 and 609, and are advertised in the Taller of 
30th November 1710. She had just opened her new premises 
in Fleet Street at the sign of the Golden Salmon. 

The rebus of Abel Drugger's sign will be found in Ben 
Jonson's Alchemist, ii. i. 

29. PAGE 86. Motto. Horace, Satires, 1. x. 23. 

PAGE 87. Addison justly marks the contrast between Henry 
Purcell's musical dramas and the Italian operas. It is never¬ 
theless interesting to note that in Purcell's opera Dido and 
Aeneas all the di^ogue is recitative, not spoken. Purcell died 
in November 1695, aged 36. • 

PAGE 88. Dying Falls. 'That strain again! it had a dying fall* 
{Twelfth Night, I. i. 4). 



THE SPECTATOR 


530 

PAGE 88, Jean Baptiste Lully (1633-87), surintendant de la 
musique to Louis XIV, set himself, as Addison says, to add the 
grace and modulation of the Italian opera to the national music 
of his adopted country. He wrote twenty operas, one of which, 
Proserpine, in five acts (produced 19th November 1680), is 
referred to by Addison in the next paragraph. An account of 
Lully will be found in Grove's Dictionary of Music, third edition, 
iii. 245-8. Is the ’lulling softness' (lines 5-6 above) a pun? 

PAGE 89. First paragraph. Cf. page 46, third paragraph. 

Red Stockings. See note on page 525. 

An advertisement in the original issue informs readers that 
they can have ‘Compleat setts' of the Spectator for March. 
Other monthly parts followed. 

30. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. vi. 65. 

PAGE 90. For other references to the modish Fringe-Glove see 
note on page 525. 

PAGE 91. Duelling. See page 521. 

The line is from Martial, Epigrams, i. 71. 'Naevia' is 
generally read ‘Laevia.’ 

31. PAGE 92. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, vi. 266. 

The dancing Monkies. See page 86. The Lions. See page 40. 

The popular Rival Queens or Alexander the Great, by Nat 
Lee (see No. 92), had been burlesqued at the Haymarket (29th 
June 1710) by Colley Cibber, with Bullock as Roxana, and 
Bullock junior as Statira (Genest, ii. 455). 

PAGE 93, The dumb Conjurer. Duncan Campbell, referred to in 
Nos. 323 and 474. See B. I. 

Clench or Clinch of Barnet. See page 73. 

Mrs. Salmon. See page 85 and note. 

Quintus Curtius. ix. i, 31-3. 

Hockley-in-the-Hole, now Ray Street (formerly Rag Street), 
near Clerkenwell Green, was in great repute with the mob for its 
bear-baiting and prize-fights. In No. 436 Steele refers to it as 
a 'Place of no small Renown for the Gallantry of the lower 
Order of Britons,' and describes an encounter there between 
'two Masters of the Noble Science of Defence’; and the writer 
of No. 630 alludes to 'the Gladiators of Hockley in the Hole.’ 
Cf. Taller, No. 28: '. . . till oblig’d to leaVe the Bear-garden 
on the Right, to avoid being borne down by Fencers, Wild Bulls, 
and Monsters, too terrible for the Encounter of any Heroes, but 
such whose Lives are their Livelihood’; also Dunciad, i. 326, 
T he Beggar’s Opera, i. vi, and Johnson's Letters, ii. 30. Jona¬ 
than Wild was son-in-law of ‘Scragg Hollow, of Hockley 
in the Hole, Esq.' {Jonathan Wild, i. ii). 

William Pinkethman, comedian and showman, is referred to 
in Nos. 36, 370, 455, 502, 539 (see B. /.). In No. 44, and in sub¬ 
sequent sheets at intervals, appears the following advertise¬ 
ment: 'Mr. Penkethman’s Wonderful Invention call'd the 
Pantheon: or, the Temple of the Heathen Gods. The work of 
severa^ years, and great Expense, is now perfected; being a 
most surprising and magnificent Machine, consisting of 5 
several curious Pictures, the Painting and contrivance whereof 



NOTES 


531 


is beyond expression admirable. The Figures, which are above 
100, and move their Heads, Legs, Arms, and Fingers, so exactly 
to what they perform, and setting one Foot before another, 
like living Creatures, that it justly deserves to be esteem’d th:; 
greatest Wonder of the Age. ... In the Little Piazza, Covent 
Garden, in the same House where Punch’s Opera is. . . .’ 

PAGE 93. Pope satirizes the popular liking for 'spectacle' in 
Imitations of Horace, Epistles, ii. i, and there refers to the ' bear 
or elephant.’ 

Powell. George Powell, the actor. See B. I. 

The German Artist. The Tatler gives an imaginary account 
of a waxwork of the religions of Great Britain, exhibited by a 
German artist (No. 257). Shadwell in Bury Fair makes fun 
of German jugglers. 

PAGE 94. The satire is directed against Heidegger (see page 520). 

32. PAGE 95. Motto. Horace, Satires, 1. v. 64. 

Ugly Club. See page 54. 

PAGE 97. Alexander the Great's wry neck. Cf. Tatler, No. 77. 

Eighty eight (1688). An allusion to William III, who had, 
in Burnet's words, 'a Roman Eagle Nose.' 

The frontispiece of the third edition of Dryden’s Juvenal 
and Persius (1702) represents Apollo giving the mask of Satire 
to Juvenal. The first edition, 1693, is without 'Sculptures.' 

PAGE 98. Larvati, in the primary sense, ‘bewitched.’ Larva, a 
ghost; then a mask. 

33. Motto. Horace, Odes, i. xxx. 5. 

PAGE 99. Saint-Evremond’s Essays were done into English in 
1694 by Brown. The sentiment will be found in the section 
of vol. ii, 'Of the Pleasure that Women take in their Beauty.* 
Saint-Evremoniana was published in 1710, 

PAGE 100, Porcelain Clay: 

Ay; these look like the workmanship of heaven; 

This is the porcelain clay of humankind, 

And therefore cast into these noble moulds. 

Don Sebastian, 1. i. 

PAGE loi. Kneller’s. See the letter in No. 555. 

Paradise Lost, viii. 488-9. Mure correctly:' In every gesture. ’ 

A short Epitaph. From Ben Jonson’s Epitaph on Elizabeth, 
L. H. {Epigrams, cxxiv). Steele's memory is out; it runs: 
Underneath this stone doth lie 
As much beauty as could die: 

Which in life did harbour give 
T o more virtue than doth live. 

Chalmers suggests John Hughes (B. I.) as the author of the 
letter and of one in No. 53. May not this be the moral vein of 
^chard Blackmore? 

34. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, xv. 159, 

For the first and last paragraphs of this paper see note on 
pages 514-15* 

PAGE 104. The Roman Triumvirate. Cf. Shakespeare, Julius 
Caesar, iv. i. 

Punch. See notes on page 324, 



THE SPECTATOR 


35. PAGE 104. Motto. Catullus, Carmina, xxix. 16; erroneously 
ascribed to Martial in the original. 

PAGE 105. 'Window-breaking* and ‘scouring,’ as the humour of 
the 'gay empty sparks,' are frequent topics in Shadwell's plays. 
See The Woman-Captain, The Squire of Alsatia, The Scowrers, 
passim. In the fiddler's song in his Epsom Wells Shadwell 
speaks of 

The cheats of the City, 

The rattling of coaches, 

And the Noise of the Men they call Witty! 

The Taller describes the breaking of windows with halfpence as 
‘a generous Piece of Wit’ (No. 77). 

Wit by Negatives. In Cowley's ode, Of Wit (Grosart’s 
edition, i. 135-6), where these lines occur in the seventh stanza; 
What is it then, which like the Power Divine 
We only can by Negatives define? 

Last line, 'are several imposters,* A. 

PAGE 106. Line 3. Cheats. 'Counterfeits,' A. 

PAGE 107. Last paragraph. See note to page loi. 

36. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, iii. 583, 

April the gth must be intended: the letter refers to No. 31 
(page 92). 

PAGE 108, The Hangings, page 67 and note; The Rose Tavern, 
page 8; Make Love, etc., cf. page 127; King Porus, page 93; 
Mr. Pinkeihman, ib.; Oracle of Delphos, ib.; Hercules, etc., 
page 84. 

'T. D.* may stand for Thomas Doggett (see B. I.), 

The Rehearsal, i. i; 

Enter Thunder and Lightning. 

Thun. I am the bold Thunder. 

Bayes. Mr. Cartwright, prithee speak that a little louder, and with 
a hoarse voice. I am the bold Thunder: pshaw! speak it me in a 
voice that thunders it out indeed; I am the bold Thunder. 

Thun. I am the bold Thunder. 

The Rehearsal was played at the Haymarket on i8th November 
1709, with Johnson in the part of Thunder, and at Drury Lane 
on 29th January 1711, with Johnson in the same part and Miss 
Younger as Lightning. 

PAGE 109. The nom de guerre ‘Salmoneus' is happily chosen, for 
the son of Aeolus had imitated lightning, and had been hurled 
to the nether world by a thunderbolt from Jove. See Dryden’s 
Aeneis, vi. 787. 

Chr. Rich. See page 518. 

For William Bullock see B. 1 . At Pinkethman's Summer 
Theatre at Greenwich, The Rival Queens had been played on 
6th July 1710, with Powell as Alexander, and Bullock junior as 
Hephestion. On 7th April 1711, Bullock had appeared as Sir 
Bookish Outside, and Pinkethman as Tipple, a servant, in 
Injured Love, a new play by an anonymous author (see Genest, 
ii. 478)!: 

Visiting Days. See page 528. 

PAGE izo. Enchanted Woods. See Nos. 5 and 14. 



NOTES 


533 


PAGE I TO. Card-matches. Matches made of card dipped in sulphur. 
The cry of the vendors is referred to in No. 251, and in the 
Tatler, No. 4. 

37. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, vii. 805. 

PAGES 111-12. John Ogilby, who is satirized in Mac Flecknoe and 
The Dunciad, published two translations of Virgil, one in 1649, 
the other in 1654. The 1684 edition of the second had ‘such 
excellent sculptures; and (what added great grace to his works) 
he printed them all on special good paper, and in a very good 
letter’ (note to Dunciad, i. 141). Dryden's Juvenal {ante, 
page 97 and note) first appeared in 1693. 

Cassandre, by La CalprenMe (1642, 10 vols.), was translated 
by Charles Cotterell (folio, London, 1676), and ‘By several 
Hands’ (3 vols., 8vo, London, 1703); CUopdtre, by the same 
(1647-63, 10 vols.), by Robert Loveday (vols. i-vi), John Coles 
(vii), James Webbe (viii), and J. Davies (ix-xii) from 1652 to 
1665, and in a two-volume foUo edition in 1674; Astrie, by 
Honors d’Urfc (1616-20), by a ‘Person of Quality,' with the 
Preface signed J. D. (3 vols., 1657); Artamdne ou Le Grand 
Cyrus, by Mile de Scudery (1649-53, 10 vols.), by 'F. G.' in 
five folio volumes; and CUlie, by the same (1656-60, 10 vols.), 
in five parts by John Davies (i-iii), and by G. Havers (iv-v), 
1656-61. These ‘vast French romances,' for the most part 
in folio, enjoyed great popularity in England, especially among 
the women. In Steele's Tender Husband (i. i) Captain Cleri- 
mont says knowingly: * Cassandra, Astraea, and Clelia are my 
intimate acquaintance,' in reply to the warning that the young 
lady ‘has spent all her solitude in reading romances’ and has 
her head ‘full of shepherds, knights, flowery meads, groves, 
and streams.’ So, too, Tatler, Nos, 75 and 139. Many of the 
most popular English plays were derived from them (see the 
list in Ward’s English Dramatic Literature, iii. 309). The 
thirteenth edition of Sidney’s Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia 
{ante, page 45), appeared in 1674. This romance is studied by 
Lettice, ‘by a small candle,' in Steele's Lying Lover (iv. ii): 'the 
faithful Argalus was renowned all over the plains of Area— 
Area—Arcadia—for his loyal and true affection to his charming 
paramour, Parthenia.' 

Of the works of Newton, Locke, Temple, and Taylor, which 
find a place in this catalogue, nothing need be said. The 
Dictionary may refer to Glossographia A nglicana Nova ; or a 
Dictionary interpreting such hard words of whatever language as 
are at present used in the English Tongue (London, 1707), 
Sherlock's Practical Discourses concerning Death, which passed 
through many editions, is referred to in No. 289. The Fifteen 
Comforts of Matrimony, an English version (published anony¬ 
mously in 1682) of the popular fifteenth-century Quinze foies 
de mariage, was the first of a series of books of its kind. Its 
antidote. The Fifteen Comforts of Real Matrimony, appeared in 
1683; and The Fifteen Comforts of Rash and fnconsiderate 
Marriage, fourth edition in 1694, another in 1706, and 
The Fifteen Comforts of Cucholdom in 1706. Malebranche’s 



534 


THE SPECTATOR 


Recherche de la VSriU was Englished by Thomas Taylor in 1694, 
and by R. Sault in the same year. (See No. 94.) There were 
many editions of The Academy of Compliments, Two appeared 
before 1713, viz. The Academy of Compliments'or A New Way 
of Wooing . . . (London, 1685, 8vo), and The Compleat Academy 
of Compliments, containing choice sentences . . . (London, 
1705, i2mo). Nicholas Culpeper’s Compleat Midwife’s Practice 
appeared in an ‘enlarged edition' in 1663, and again in 1698, 
and his Directory for Midwives in 1651 and 1693. The Ladies 
Calling, by the A uthor of the Whole Duty of Man, was a popular 
octavo, of which the seventh edition was published at Oxford in 
1700. Abigail, in Shadwell's Scowrers, praises it as one of 
’these godly Books [which] quiet the Conscience mightily' 
(1. i). I'homas D’Urfey, ‘that ancient Lyrick' of the Tatler 
(No, 214), published, among other pieces. Tales Tragical and 
Comical, in verse, in 1704. It may add point to the satire to 
quote Pope {Letters, loth April 1710): ‘Any man of any quality 
is heartily welcome to the best toping-table of our gentry who 
can roundly hum out some fragment or rhapsodies of bis works,' 
Baker’s Chronicle of the Kings of England, printed in 1643, and 
in a ninth edition in 1696, is mentioned in No. 269 as always to 
be found on Sir Roger’s hall window (cf. also Toiler, No, 264). 
The A dvice to a Daughter, by George Savile, Marquess of Halifa.x, 
will be found in his Miscellanies (1700 edition, pages 1-84). 
Secret Memoirs and Manners of Several Persons of Quality of 
both Sexes from the New Atalantis . . . appeared in 1709 from 
the pen of the notorious Mary Manley. A second edition, in 
two volumes, was published in 1709; and her Court Intrigues 
in 1711. The ‘ Key’ may be supposed to be in MS. like the one, 
in the Rawlinson collection in the Bodleian Library, noted by 
Thomas Arnold {Addison, page 496). References will be found 
in the Tatler, No. 243, and Pope's Rape of the Lock, iii. 165. 
Steele’s Christian Hero was published in 1701. The Speech oj 
Henry Sacheverell D.D, upon his Impeachment ... is a small 
folio of ten pages (London, 1710J; see infra, page 175. Of the 
trial of Robert ('Handsome') Fielding for 'having two wives, 
three different short accounts appeared in 1706; but the re¬ 
ference,is probably to The Arraignment, Tryal, and Conviction, 
published in 1708. Seneca’s Morals, by Sir Roger L’Estrange, 
appeared in a seventh edition in 1699, and in a tenth in 1711. 
La Ferte's Instructions may not refer to a book, though there 
appeared in 1696 a Second Part of the Dancing Master [1652], or 
Directions for Country Dances. Mr. Ferte advertises his school 
in Compton Street, Soho, in No. 52 and later numbers of the 
Spectator. 

PAGE 112. Hungary Water was a popular compound of spirits of 
wine, lavender, and rosemary, which was used as a cure-all and 
as a perfume. Sec ii, 484. It was applied for a squirrel bite 
{Tatler, 266); Swift rubbed his rheumatic shoulder with it 
{Journa^ to Stella, 29th March 1712); and Mr. Bickerstaff 
grouped it as a necessary with tea and snuff { 2 'atler, No. 125), 
Cf. Tatler, No. 243: 'A spunge dipped in Hungary Water left 



NOTES 


535 

but the Night before by a young Lady going upon a Frolick 
Incog/ 

PAGE 113. Addison makes good in No. 92 his promise to discuss 
the equipment of a lady's library. See also page 247. The 
Taller, in No. 248, had introduced the subject of a ‘Female 
Library.’ In 1714 Steele published, or gave his name to, The 
Ladies Library (3 vols., i2mo), in the preface of which he wrote: 
‘The Reader is to understand that the Papers which compose 
the following volumes came into ray hands upon the frequent 
mention in the Spectator of a Ladies Library.’ The volumes do 
not deal with books but with topics, as Employment, Dress, 
Chastity, and Charity, ‘supposed to be collected out of the 
several writings of our greatest Divines.’ 

38. Motto. Marti^, Epigrams, vi. xxix. 8. 

PAGE 114. Dr. Thomas Burnet's Telluris Theoria Sacra appeared 
in translation in 1690. Its thesis, that the primitive records 
may be interpreted allegorically, was opposed by Whiston in 
1696 in his New Theory of the Earth, which maintained that they 
were ‘ perfectly agreeable to religion and philosophy.' See Leslie 
Stephen’s English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, i. ii. 

PAGE 115. Eighth line from foot. A man. Lord Cowper. 

39 - PAGE 11 6 . Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. ii, 102. 

Tragedy is the noblest, etc, Addison here follows Aristotle 
{Poetics, xxvi) in defiance of Drydcn {Dedication of the Aeneis) 
and the French critics, notably Chapelain, Rapin, and Le Bossu. 

Seneca. De Providentia, § 2. 

PAGE 117. Aristotle observes. Poetics, iv (Vahlen, page 12), and 
Rhetoric, iii. i. The question of iambic and blank verse had 
been already discussed by Dryden in his Essay of Dramatic 
Poesy, XV, pages 359, 364, and 369; that of plays in rhyme, 
ib., page 355 onwards; that of the hemistich, the pauses, and 
‘variety of cadences,' ib., pages 363, 371, and 372. Addison 
probably had in mind the closing speeches of the third act of 
Dryden's Oedipus, which illustrate all the points of his thesis. 
He quotes a portion in his next paper. 

PAGE 118, Plain English. Cf. Boileau, Reflexions sur Longin, 
xi, § I. 

Aristotle's ‘observation’ is reproduced in Horace, Ars 
Poetica, lines 95-8. 

PAGE 119. Nathaniel Lee (1650-90). His popular play of The 
Rival Queens or The Death of Alexander the Great {1677) has 
been referred to (page 530). He collaborated with Drydcn in 
Oedipus (1679). Dryden's fifth Epistle is addressed to ‘Mr. 
Lee, on his tragedy of the Rival Queens.’ 

'Thomas Otway (1651-85). Venice Preserved or A Plot 
Discovered, was first acted at the Duke's Theatre in 1682. 

Si pro patria, etc. Florus, iv. i. Cf. Ben Jonson's Catiline, 
V. vi. 

40. PAGE 120. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 208. 

Poetical Justice. This paper was, according do Pope, the 
xiccasion of John Dennis's ‘deplorable frenzy’ in I.intot's book¬ 
shop on 27th March 17x2. ‘Opening one of the volumes of the 

I_si64 



536 


THE SPECTATOR 


Spectator, In large paper, [he] did suddenly, without the least 
provocation, tear out that of No. —, where the author treats 
of poetical justice, and cast it into the street' (Pope's Works, 
edited by Elwin and Courthope, x. 459)- For Dennis's reply 
see his Original Letters (1721, page 407). 

PAGE 120. Aristotle. Poetics, xiii. 

PAGE 121. The Orphan or The Unhappy Marriage, by Otway 
(1680); Venice Preserved, ante, No. 39; Alexander the Great, ib!; 
Theodosius or The Force of Love, by Nat Lee, drawn from the 
romance of Pharamond (1680); All for Love or The World Well 
Lost, by Dryden {1678), a transcript of Shakespeare's Antony 
and Cleopatra', Oroonoko, by Thomas Southerne (i6g6), founded 
on Mrs. Aphra Behn's novel of that name. 

King Lear, ‘as Shakespeare wrote it,' had been acted at 
Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre between 1662 and 1665. Since 
1681 Nahum Tate's wretched adaptation had held the stage. 

The Mourning Bride, Congreve's only tragedy (1697); 
Tamerlane, by Rowe (1702); Ulysses, by the same (1705); 
Phaedra and Hippolitus {ante, page 526). 

Tragi-Comedy. Sidney, in his Apologie for Poetrie, de¬ 
nounces ‘the mingling Kings and Clownes' in ‘mungrell Tragy- 
comedie,' and adds: ‘I knowe the Auncients have one or two 
examples of Tragy-comedies, as Plautus hath Amphitrio. But 
if we marke them well, wc shall find that they never, or very 
daintily, match Hom-pypes and Funeralls' {Elizabethan Critical 
Essays, edited by Gregory Smith, i. 199). See the Introduction 
to the same, page.xliv, and references (by Index). Dryden 
discusses the subject in his Dedications to The Spanish Friar 
(vi. 410), Love Triumphant (viii. 376), and The Rival Ladies, but 
especially in the Essay of Dramatic Poesy, which directly sug¬ 
gests the passage in the Spectator, 'There is no theatre in the 
world,' says Lisideius, ‘has anything so absurd as the English 
tragi-comedy; 'tis a drama of our own invention, and the 
fashion of it is enough to proclaim it so' (xv. 317, 321). 'I 
cannot but conclude, to the honour of our nation,' replies 
Neander (i.e. Dryden) ‘that we have invented, increased, and 
perfected a more pleasant way of writing for the stage, than 
was ever known to the ancients or moderns of any nation, 
which is tragi-comedy' (page 332). 

For the Double Plot and Under Plot see the dialogue between 
Lisideius and Neander in Dryden's Essay of Dramatic Poesy, 
also the Preface to Cleomenes and to Love Triumphant. 

Ranis. Cf. Colley Cibber's remarks on The Rival Queens 
{Apology, page 8g): ‘When these flowing Numbers come from 
the Mouth of a Betterton, the Multitude no more desired Sense 
to them, than our musical Connoisseurs think it essential in the 
celebrated Airs of the Italian Opera.' 

PAGE 122. Powell, George Powell, the actor. See B. I. 

PAGES 122-3. 1*1 the first extract from Oedipus (iii. i) Scott and 
Saintsbury's edition reads, ‘ If wandering in the maze of fate I 
run,' and 'the paths'; in the second (iv. i), ‘pond'rous earth.' 
The third act was written by Dryden; the fourth by Lee. 



NOTES 


537 

PAGE 123. Dryden's Conquest of Mexico (Powell’s benefit piece) is 
advertised in the next number by its first and better known 
title, The Indian Emperor. 

41, Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, i. 653. The usual reading is 
without ‘es,' but the Codex Harl. and other MSS. preserve 
it (see Robinson Ellis, Anecdota Oxoniensia, Classical Series, i, 
part 5) 

Ben Jonson's Epicoene or The Silent Woman, v. i. 

Cut. The first is impedimentum err oris. 

Ott. Of which there are several species. 

Cut. Ay, as error personae. 

Ott. If you contract yourself to one person, thinking her another. 

PAGE 124. Piets. Cf. Dennis's Essay upon Publick Spirit (1711): 
‘Men, who like Women are come to use Red and White, and 
part of the Nation are turning Piets again’ (page 15). 

PAGE 125. Cowley’s ‘Wayting Maid,' in The Mistress, stanza iv. 

‘The exact manner of Lindamira.' Tatler, No. 9. 

PAGE 126. Donne's Anatomy of the World {The Second Anniver¬ 
sary), lines 244-6: ‘That one might almost say.’ 

42, Motto. Horace, Epistles, 11. i. 202. 

Aristotle. Poetics, xiv. 

PAGE 127. Cf. Sidney’s Apologie for Poetrie: ‘Two Armies flye in, 
represented with foure swords and bucklers' {Elizabethan 
Critical Essays, u.s. i. 197); Shakespeare’s Henry V: ‘With 
four or five most vile and ragged foils,’ etc. (Act iv. Prologue, 
50 et sqq.); Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour: 'With 
three rusty swords,' etc. (Prologue, 9 et sqq.). See also The 
Rehearsal, v. i. 

T.KCE 128. Non tamen, etc. Horace, Ars Poetica, 182-4. 

The additional notion of Admiration appears in Sidney's 
Apologie: ‘Tragedy . . . that with starring the affects of 
admiration and commiseration teacheth the uncertainety of 
this world.' See the note in Elizabethan Critical Essays, u.s. 
(1904), i. 392 - 3 - 

43, PAGE 129. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, vi. 854. 

PAGES 129-30. The formula, which granted unlimited authority 
to the consuls, included these words: ‘ Ne quid respublica detri- 
menti capiat.' Henry Morley is wrong in stating that Abraham 
Froth's Act ‘for importing French Wines' is a muddle-headed 
reference to the Methuen Treaty of 1703, which favoured port 
at the expense of claret. An Act was passed in 1711 for the 
importation of French wine. See Burnet's reflections upon it 
{History of his Own Time, ii. 565-6). The 'Northern Prince'is 
Charles XII of Sweden, and ^e references are to the campaign 
with the Tsar Peter. Palmquist may be, as Henry Morley 
suggests, the ‘Hebdomadal Meeting’ variant for Count Ponia- 
towski. The 'Neutrality Array' may refer to England, Ger¬ 
many, and Holland, which were signatories to a treaty of 
neutr^ity after Poltava. » 

PAGE 130. Dyer’s News-Letter (cf. Nos. 127 and 457), published 
by John Dyer, was discontinued on his death in September 1713 



THE SPECTATOR 


538 

PAGE 131. The British Princess : an Heroich Poem, by Edward 
Howard, one of the butts of The Rehearsal, was ridiculed by 
Rochester and by Sprat. It was the latter who called it an 
‘ incomparable, incomprehensible Poem.' Henry Motley quotes 
Howard's lines: 

A vest as admir’d Vortager had on 

Which from this Island’s foes his Grandsire won. 

Edward King took it upon him to defend the burlesque couplet 
as sober sense {Munimenta Antigua, iii. 186). 

44. PAGE 132. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 153. 

Sounding of the Clock. In the fifth act of Otway’s Venice 
Preserv'd (1682), where, during the scene between Jaffier and 
Belvidera, the ‘passing bell' tolls for Pierre. 

Hamlet, i. iv. 38-54 (second, or later, folio). 

PAGE 133. 'Les Anglois nos voisins aiment le sang, dans leurs 
jeux. par le qualite de leur temperament: ce sont des insulaires, 
separes du reste des hommes; nous sommes plus humains. . . . 
Les peuples, qui paroissent avoir plus de g6nie pour la Tragedie 
de tons nos voisins, sont les Anglois, par I'esprit de leur nation 
qui se plaist aux choses atroces, et par le caractere de leur 
langue qui est propre aux grandes expressions.'—Ren6 Rapin's 
Reflexions sur la Poitique d’Aristote, etc., 1674, pages 183, 201. 
The same reference occurs in the 134th Tatler. Vavasseur 
controverts Rapin's statement about ‘grandes expressions' in 
his Remarques sur les nouvelles Reflexions (Paris, 1675, page 
117). See note to page 192. 

PAGE 134. The famous play. Corneille’s Horace (1640). 

A Tragedy. Electra. See the Remarks in Roscommon, at 
the passage referred to below. 

PAGE 135. Horace, Ars Poetica, 185. The second version of the 
Latin and English is as in Roscommon, but with the second 
line ('And spill,' etc.), given in the first quotation, omitted. 

Bullock, Norris. See B. I. 

PAGE 136. Etherege's Comical Revenge or Love in a Tub was played 
at Lincoln's Inn Fields in 1664. 

45. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, iii. 100. 

Shadwell, in A True Widow (1. i, passim), jests at 'French 
Fopperies.' 

Visits in their Beds. The ruelle du lit is originally the narrow 
passage on either side of the bed, but under Louis XIV it came 
to signify the bedrooms or boudoirs of fashionable ladies, where 
morning conversation was held with their visitors. See also 
iv. 272. Cf. Moli^re, Les Pricieuses ridicules, L’Ecole des femmes ; 
Boileau, Satires, xii; and the humorous anecdote in Mena- 
giana, ii. 334. Hence the phrases, courir les ruelles, homme de 
ruelle {Spectator, No. 530). Cf. Dryden, Dedication of the 
Aeneis, page 139, and Pope, Rape of the Lock, iii. 166. 

PAGE 137. Line 34. Awaken'^. French iveilli. Cf. Etherege’s 
Sir Filing Flutter, iv. i. 

Macbbth (Davenant’s version) was acted at the Haymarket 
on 27th December 1707. Betterton played Macbeth; and 
Norris, Bullock, and Bowen the Witches. 



NOTES 


539 


46. PAGE 139. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, i. i. 9. 

Edward Lloyd's Coffee-house, originally in Tower Street, 
from which it was removed in 1692 to Lombard Street, was a 
well-known house for wine sales (see advertisements. A) and 
ship-broking business. It attracted customers from John's in 
Birchin Lane, and even from Garraway’s, and acquired a 
reputation with merchant shippers. See Tatler, No. 268. 

Charles Lillie, perfumer, at the corner of Beaufort Buildings 
in the Strand, acted as agent for the sale of the Spectator (see 
advertisements in A, No. 16 onwards), as he had done for the 
Tatler (see Nos. 138 and 142). He is.sued two volumes of 
Original and Genuine Letters sent to the Tatler and Spectator (1725). 

PAGE 141. The Postman. See page 514. 

The Bishop of Salisbury. Gilbert Burnet, the historian, 
wrote a description, in the form of letters, of his continental 
travels in 1685-6. 

The Art of Ogling. Cf. ante. No. 20. 

The Ring. A fashionable resort in Hyde Park for promen- 
aders and horsemen. Cf. Nos. 73, 88, 377. 

47. PAGE 142. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, ii. xli. 

Hobbes's Human Nature, ix, § 13 (Molesworth, iv. 46). 

PAGE 143. A Satyr. Boileau's fourth Satire. See Dennis, 
Original Letters (1721, page 417). 

The sobriquet Jack-Pudding, for a merry andrew, which 
appears in Milton’s Defence of the People of England, i, was much 
in vogue in the literature at the end of the seventeenth century. 
Cf. Shadwell's plays, passim’, Jones's Elymas (1682). Addison 
has not added the German equivalent Hans Wurst. 

Sleeveless Errand. Cf. Troilus and Cressida, v. iv. 9. 

Inkle. See note to page 35. The burning of blue Inkle as a 
restorative is referred to in Shadwell’s Sullen Lovers, ii, and 
The Amorous Bigot, v. i. 

PAGE 144. The Biter is discussed in No. 504. A bite (as in No. 156) 
is the eighteenth-century word for our 'sell'; a biter, one who 
humbugs. 'I'll teach you a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson,' 
writes Swift to Dr. Tisdall (i6th December 1703): 'it is a new- 
fashioned way of being witty, and they call it a bite. You must 
ask a bantering question, or tell some damned lie in a serious 
manner, and then she will answer or speak as if you were in 
earnest; and then cry you, "Madam, there's a bite\”’ See 
Swift's verses, passim. Rowe’s comedy The Biter was produced 
on 4th December 1704, when the author, according to Dr. John¬ 
son, 'sat in the house laughing with great vehemence, whenever 
he had in his own opinion produced a jest’ {Lives, ii. 313). 

PAGES 144-5. 2 Henry IV, i. ii. 6. 

48. PAGE 145. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, xiv. 652. 

PAGE 147. The Unhappy Favourite or The Earl of Essex, by Banks, 
was first produced at the Theatre Royal in 1682, and was 
played at Drury Lane on 25th December 1709. It was a 
popular piece, and supplied the basis for the lal^r plays. The 
Earl of Essex, by Jones (1753) and Brooke (1761). See the 
Preface to Fielding’s Tom Thumb the Great (1730). Lord 



340 


THE SPECTATOR 


Foppington was Colley Cibber's part in bis own play, The 
Careless Huiband, acted on 7th December 1704, Justice 
Clodpate, ‘an immoderate hater of London,’ is a character in 
Shad well's Epsom Wells (1672), revived at Drury Lane on i8th 
December 1798, with Powell, Johnson (as the Justice), Bullock, 
and Pinkethman in the cast. Justice Overdo is in Ben Jonson's 
Bartholomew Fair {1614), which was acted at the Haymarket 
on 12th August 1707. 

49. PAGE 148. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, x. iv. 

Beaver the Haberdasher is James Heywood, linen-draper. 
Fish Street Hill, the ‘James Easy' of the letter in No. 268, and 
the author of a volume of Letters and Poems. (See Austin 
Dobson's Steele, pages 467, 473.) 

PAGE 149. The Grecian. See page 514. Squire's was near Gray’s 
Inn, and Searle’s was at Lincoln’s Inn. See Nos. 269 and 271. 

PAGE 150. Dinner-Time. ‘In my own Memory the Dinner has 
crept by Degrees from Twelve a Clock to Three, and where it 
will fix no Body knows’ (Tatler, No. 263). Lady Dainty, con¬ 
ceiving ‘it necessary for a Gentlewoman to be out of order,' 
dined in her closet at twelve (ib.. No. 77). Cf. Swift’s Journal 
of a Modem Lady (1728). 

Tom the Tyrant was the head waiter at White’s Coffee-house, 
of sufficient authority to be classed with Mr, Kidney of the 
St, James's. He is the ‘Sir Thomas' of the Tatler (Nos. 16, 26, 
and 36). 

50. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, xiv. 321. 

On the morning after the appearance of this paper. Swift 
wrote in his Journal to Stella: ‘The Spectator is written by 
Steele with Addison's help; 'tis often very pretty. Yesterday 
it was made of a noble hint I gave him long ago for his Tatlers, 
about an Indian supposed to write his travels into England. 
I repent he ever had it. I intended to have written a book on 
that subject. I believe he has spent it all in one paper, and 
all the under hints there are mine too; but I never see him or 
Addison.' Addison, who, it will be noted, is the author of the 
paper, cannot well have been indebted to Swift for the ‘under 
hints.' The paper in the Tatler (No. 171, 12th May 1710) gives 
an account of the manner in which the Indian kings 'who were 
lately in Great Britain ’ did honour to their landlord, the uphol¬ 
sterer in King Street, Covent Garden. This man, whom they 
styled 'Cadaroque,' is the 'Upholsterer' of the present paper. 
The four Iroquois chiefs (including Tee Yee Neen Ho Ga 
Row, ‘Emperor of the Mohocks') had come to England to 
hear 

their doom 

Secur’d against the threats of France and Rome. 

See the Epilogue spoken ' before the four Indian Kings ’ at the 
Haymarket after the performance of Macbeth on 24th April 1710 
(Genest, ii. 452). As to thie distinction between the 'Uphol¬ 
sterer' aid the ‘Political Upholsterer,' and the identification 
of the former with one of the Ames, see Dictionary of National 
Biography, article Thomas Arne. 



NOTES 


541 

This paper may have helped Goldsmith in his plan of The 
Cituen of the World; but Montesquieu’s Lettres persanes (1721), 
named by Thomas Arnold as indebted to this happy 'hint/ 
more probably drew directly from du Fresny's Amusements 
serieux et comiques d’un Siamois (1707) and Galland’s translation 
of the Thousand and One Nights (1708). 

PAGE 151. Line 29. The Surface of a Pebble. ‘ Polished Marble/ A. 

PAGE 152. Fifth line from foot. Persons, Qtc. ‘ Men of the greatest 
Perfections in their Country/ A. 

PAGE 153. For the 'black spots’ or patches, see No. 81. 

51. Motto. Horace, Epistles, n. i. 127. 

Steele criticizes his own play by way of prelude to his 
strictures on several popular comedies. (See Nos. 65, 75.) The 
passage is from the first edition of The Funeral (published 
December 1701). The later text. Act ii, sc. i, reads: 

Campley. O that Harriot! to embrace tliat beauteous- 

Lord Hardy. Ay Tom, etc. 

PAGE 154. Line 20. About him to delight. ‘Else to gratify,' A. 

She Would if she Could, by Sir George Etherege, had been 
last acted on 5th December 1706, at the Ilaymarket. 

PAGE 155. Ibrahim, 13th Emperour of the Turks (corrected in the 
I’reface to ‘ 12th ’) was written by Mrs. Pix. It was produced at 
Drury Lane in 1696, and again on 20th October 1702 (see 
Gencst, ii. 74). Settle had written a play entitled Ibrahim in 
1676, founded on Scud6ry’s romance of that name. 

The ‘throwing of the handkerchief' supplied many a meta¬ 
phor in the plays of the day. Cf. Shadwell's Scowrers, i. i. It 
is probable that not a little of the eastern ‘colour’ of contem¬ 
porary literature was derived from a treatise on the seraglio 
written by John Greaves {ante, page 513). 

The Rover or The Banished Cavaliers, by Mrs. Aphra Behn, 
of which the first part was licensed on 2nd July 1677, and the 
second acted in 1681. The first part was the better, and was 
more popular. The scene where Blunt falls ‘into the common 
shore’ is taken from Boccaccio, Decameron, 11. v (Gencst, ii. 210). 

At Bartholomew Fair. This may refer to the popular acro¬ 
batic exhibitions at the fair, or, according to some editors, 
to the display of figure by ‘Lady Mary/ a rope-dancer of 
the time. 

52. PAGE 157. Motto, Virgil, Aeneid, i. 78. 

Tacta places, etc. Martial, vii. loi; one of the three doubtful 
epigrams not printed in the later texts. 

PAGE 158. The Postman. See page 514. The Spectator (A) fre¬ 
quently advertises ‘rosy’ cosmetics, especially ‘the famous 
Bavarian Red Liquor.’ 

53. PAGE 159. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 359. 

PAGE 160. Epictetus his Morals, with Simplicius his Comment, was 
done into English, in 1694, by George Stanhope. A second 
edition was printed in 1700. The passage in italics is a resume 
of c. 62. For Saint-Evremond see ante, page 531, 



542 


THE SPECTATOR 


PAGB i6o. R. B. Cf. note to letter in No. 33, where there is also a 
reference to Saint-Evremond. 

PAGE 162. King Latinus. See page 527. 

54. PAGE 163. Motto. Horace, Epistles, 1. xi. 28. 

PAGE 164. That great Man. See Plato's Apology, vi. 

PAGE 165. Hudibras, iii. ii. 175-6. 'Shin'd upon.* 

'This Letter [and that in No. 78] may be by Laurence 
Eusden.'—H. Morley. 

PAGE 166. Any distinction between Coffee-house and Chocolate- 
house, in respect of their names, must be more or less doubtful. 
Pepys says: 'To a coffee-house to drink jocolatte' {Diary, 
24th November 1664). At the coffee-houses, which became 
more numerous and more club-like, ‘the guests were supplied 
with newspapers' (Johnson's Dictionary). White's and the 
Cocoa-Tree were chocolate-houses. 

55. Motto. Persius, Satires, v. 129. 

PAGES 166-7. The passage is lines 132-55 of the same satire. 
The quotation from Dryden's translation will be found in Scott 
and Saintsbury's edition, xiii. 258. Line $ :'The tyrant Lucre no 
denial takes'; lines 20-1: 

Nothing retards thy voyage now, unless 
The other lord forbids, Voluptuousness. 

[Brown George = 3. brown loaf (Johnson); Borachio^^'o. bottle 
commonly of a pigges skin, with the hair inward, dressed in¬ 
wardly with rozen, to keep wine or liquor sweet' (Minsheu, 
cf. Jonson’s The Devil is an Ass, ii. i); JacJi = the old English 
waxed leather bottle or cup.] 

PAGE 168. One who coveted, etc. Sallust, Bellum Catilinarium, v; 
'alieni appetens, siii profusus.' 

56. PAGE 169. Motto. Lucan, Pharsalia, i. 454. 

PAGE 170. The works of Albertus Magnus (1193-1280) were 
published in twenty-one volumes at Leyden in 1651. 

A Friend of mine. See page 150. 

PAGE 173. That precious Metal. Cf. the Christian ' thirst for gold' 
in the well-known passage on the ‘poor Indian’ in Pope's Essay 
on Man, i. 107-8. 

57. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, vi. 252-3. 

The Wife of Hector. Iliad, vi. 490. 

The ‘rural Andromache’ recalls Mrs. Alse Copswood, 'the 
Yorkshire Huntress,' who is described in the 37th Tatler as 
‘ come to town lately, and moves as if she were on her Nag, and 
going to take a Five-Bar Gate; and is as loud as if she were 
following her Dogs.' 

PAGE 175. The Whig Dr. Titus Oates is a clever disguise for the 
Tory Dr. Henry Sacheverell. The enthusiasm of the Tory 
ladies for the doctor during his trial (27th February-23rd 
March 1710) is described in the Tatler (No. 142). ‘In the mean 
Time it is not to be expressed, how many cold Chickens the 
Fair Ones have eaten since this day [6th March] seven-night 
for the Good of their Country.' Dr. Sacheverell’s Speech had 
its place in Leonora's library, see page 534. 



NOTES 


543 


PAGE 175, Snuff-box. See note on page 547. 

58. PAGE 176. Motto. Horace's words {Ars Poetica, 361) are 'Ut 
pictura poesis: erit,' but Addison is quoting the opening lines 
of du Fresnoy’s De Arte Graphica {1658). See the editor's 
Elizabethan Critical Essays (1904), i. 386-7, 

Longinus begins his Treatise on the Sublime with an adverse 
critique of the book on that subject by Caecilius, the Sicilian 
rhetorician and friend of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. He holds 
that it is written in a humbler style than the argument demands. 

PAGES 177-8. The ‘short poems printed among the minor Greek 
Poets' will be found on pages 314-99 of Poetae Minores Graeci, 
edited by Ralph Wintcrton, Cambridge, 1684. Addison must 
have had these pages before him when he wrote the paper, as 
the ‘ Figures' are given by him in the same order, and as all the 
details refer to the texts in that edition. A full account of 
these and other 'Figures' will be found in Puttenham’s Art of 
English Poesie. (See Elizabethan Critical Essays, u.s., ii, 95 
et seq. and 416.) 

PAGE 178. Chuse, etc, Dryden’s Mac Flecknoe, lines 205 -8. 

Mr. Herbert’s Poems. George Herbert’s Temple: as in The 
Altar (No. i) and Easter Wings (No. 11). 

The Translation of Du Bartas. Joshua Sylvester's (Dedi¬ 
cation), 

PAGE 179. Cowley in his Pindarique Odes had set a fashion of 
dishabilU in English verse, to which the later Caroline poets, 
Dryden, and the contemporaries of Addison turned for re¬ 
laxation from the rigorous heroic couplet. A more ample 
denunciation of ‘Pindarick Writers’ will be found in No, lOo. 
Addison expresses too, in No. 147, his 'classical' hatred of 
those whom he calls ‘Pindarick Readers.' 

59. Motto. Seneca, De Brevitate Vitae, xiii. 

The work of Tryphiodorus (c. a.d. 400), a grammarian and 
epic poet, is described by Hesychius of Miletus as follows; 
N^<rTw/) dxoiroids, 6 ex Avxlas, iypapev, TXtdSa XenroypififjLaTov. 
"Eari yhp iv rQ a /xtj evpl<rK€<r0ai a, xal /carA ^aptpdlav oOrw rb iKdartjt 
iKhifiirireiv aroixflov, *E7rolrja« di xal Tpvpibbwpo^ 'OdOacretuy o/xolus 
avTif (Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, edited by Muller, iv. 
171). His only extant work, on the Fall of Troy, was printed 
by H. Stephanus, in folio, in 1566. 

PAGES 180-1. Addison has borrowed most of his details in illus¬ 
tration of the rebus from Camden’s Remains concerning Britain, 
first published anonymously in 1605. 

PAGE 181. In Ovid. Metamorphoses, 356-69. 

Erasmus. Colloquia Familiaria, ‘Echo.' 

Hudibras, l. iii. 183-220, It is Orsin who bewails his loss. 
Butler, according to Warburton, refers in the lines about 
‘splay-foot rhymes,' to Sidney's Arcadia. He may have had 
in mind such poems as Herbert's Heaven (The Temple, No. 159). 

60. PAGE 182. Motto. Persius, Satires, iii. 85. 

PAGE 183. The making of anagrams {dvaypappLarl^eiv of the Greek 
grammarians) was older than monkish timel, though the 
word 'anagram' (French, anagramme) came in in the sixteenth 
I—*s 



544 


THE SPECTATOR 


century. See Puitcnham’s Art of English Poesie ('of the Ana-* 
grame or Poesie transposed’) and Camden, both ut supra. 

PAGE 183. Anagram of a Man. Cf.: 

Though all her parts be not in th’ usual place, 

She hath yet an anagram of a good face. 

Donne, Elegies, ii. 15-16. 

Cf. also Hudibras, iii. i. 771-2. 

Ibi omnis, etc. Virgil, Georgies, iv. 491-2. 

PAGE 184. Like a Seam. E.g. No. 58 in Herbert's Temple. 

The Mercure galant, by Vise, was established for the criticism 
of belles-lettres and those lighter matters which the Journal des 
Sfavans did not discuss. 

PAGE 185. See Menagiana, i. 174-5 (third edition, 1713). An 
account of the 'learned' Gille.s Menage (died 1692) will be found 
in Bayle. He was probably Moli^re's model for Vadius in Les 
Femmes savantes. 

Played booty. ‘ Played double' in ^ 4 . 

The works of Jean Francois Sarazin were printed by Manage 
in 1656, after their author's death {Menagiana, i. 30, 447). 

PAGE 186. Hudibras, i, i. 11-12; i. ii. 1-2. Cf. Tatler, No. 132. 

61. Motto. Persius, Satires, v. 19. 

One of the most deliberate and lengthy exercises in punning 
by the ' learned monarch' is his speech to the professors of the 
college of Edinburgh during his visit in 1617 (see The Muses 
Welcome, 1618). 

PAGE 187. Bishop Andrews. Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626). 

Paronomasia, pun; Ploce {vXoKii), literally a twining, more 
familiarly the Aristotelian dramatic antithesis to Antana- 

clasis, the repetition of the same word in a different, if not in 
a contrary sense. 

PAGE i8g. The saying of Aristaenetus, with the rendering by 
Mercerus, is taken by Addison from Menagiana, i. 321. Mer- 
cerus, or Mercier, was the father-in-law of Salmasius, or Sau- 
maise, the opponent of Milton. 

62. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 309. 

And hence, etc. Locke's Essay concerning Human Under¬ 
standing, 1690, 'Of Discerning,' etc. 

PAGE 190. Cf. Addison on Cowley, in An Account of the Greatest 
English Poets, Hurd, i. 22-7: 'He more had pleased us, had he 
pleased us less,' which is borrowed from Boileau {Epistles, ix). 

PAGE 191. Cowley. The Mistress, passim. 

PAGE 192. 'The definition of Wit ... is only this: That it is a 
propriety of thoughts and words: or, in other terms, thoughts 
and words elegantly adapted to the subject.'—Dryden's Apology 
for Heroic Poetry, prefixed to The State of Innocence. Dryden, 
in the Preface Xo Albion and Albanius, states that this definition, 
if true, 'will extend to all sorts of poetry.' In the Preface to 
the second Miscellany he says that he drew his definition from 
the consideration of Virgil’s art. 'This evening,’ says the 62nd 
Tatler, 'was spent at our Table in Discourse of Propriety of 
Words and Thoughts, which is Mr. Dryden’s Definition of Wit.' 

The dialogues of Bouhours, entitled La Manidre de bien penser 



NOTES 


545 

dans les ouvrages d’espvit, wherein this sentiment occurs, ap¬ 
peared in 1687, and were translated into English in 1705 by a 
* Person of Quality.’ Bouhours quotes from the ninth Epistle of 
Boileau, 'Rien n'est beau que lo vrai,’ etc., an idea which is 
familiar enough in Boileau's Art of Poetry. The vogue of 
Bouhours and Rapin among the lesser wits is illustrated in the 
Tatler, No. 87. Rapin was translated by Rymer. 

PAGE 193. Dryden. Dedication of the A eneis, Scott And SiLintshury, 
xiv. 180, Segrais (1624-1701), the friend of Mine de la Fayette, 
translated the Aeneid and Georgies into French verse, to which 
lie prefixed a dissertation. Dryden makes ample reference to 
this in his Dedication of the Aeneis. 

63. PAGE 194. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 1. 

Pulvillio (Italian polviglio: Latin pulvillus), a sachet of 
scented powder. ‘All sorts of Essences, Perfumes, Pulvilios, 
Sweet-Bags, perfum'd Boxes for your Hoods and Gloves' 
(Shadwell’s Bury Fair, ii. ii). 

PAGE 195. Dullness, the eighteenth-century antithesis to Wit, 
Good Sense, etc., which dwelt in 'Caves' and fantastic 'Temples.' 
See, especially, the passages in Pope's Dunciad and Essay on 
Criticism. 

Tryphiodorus. See page 543. 

64. PAGE 198. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, iii. 182-3. 

This day Swift enters in his Journal to Stella: ‘Dr. Freind 
was with me, and pulled out a twopenny pamphlet just pub¬ 
lished, called “The State of Wit," giving a character of all the 
papers that have come out of late. The author seems to be a 
"Whig. . . . But above all things he praises the Tatlcrs and 
Spectators; and I believe Steele and Addison were privy to the 
printing of it. Thus is one treated by these impudent dogs.' 

PAGE 199. Charles II of Spain had died in 1700; Peter II of 
Portugal in 1706; and the Emperor Joseph I on 17th April 1711, 
a few weeks before the publication of this paper. 

65. PAGE 200. Motto, Horace, Satires, 1. x. 90. 

PAGE 201. Sir George Etherege's popular comedy. The Man of 
Mode or Sir Fopiing Flutter (licensed 3rd June 1676), is referred 
to in Dryden's Mac Flecknoe, 151-4. See No. 75. 

PAGE 203. In A is an advertisement, in large type, of Pope's 
Essay on Criticism. 'This day is publish'd. An Essay on 
Criticism. . . . Price is.' 

66. Motto. Horace, Odes, m. vi. 21-4. 

Belle Sauvage. See page 85. 

'John Hughes is the author of these two letters, and, Chal¬ 
mers thinks, also of the letters signed R. B. in Nos, 33 and 53 ’ 
(H. Morley). Sec note to page loi. 

67. PAGE 205. Motto. Sallust, Bellum Catilinarium, xxv, 

Lucian's Dialogue on Dancing was translated, in the Works, 
by Ferrard Spence (1684), and again ‘By several Eminent 
Hands’ (1711). 

PAGES 206-7. Budgell, in the name 'Monsieur Rigadoon,’ hints, 
probably correctly, at the French origin of this lovely dance; 
and he appears to be right in stating that the country dance 



546 


THE SPECTATOR 


(called contre-danse on its introduction into France) is 'an 
invention of our own country.' The rigadoon was a dance for 
two. Cf. Guardian, No. 154. Mol. Palely was a popular 
English dance of the early sevententh century. The descrip¬ 
tion of the French dancing may be compared with that in the 
Taller, No. 88. See also note ante, page 534 (La Ferte). 

PAGE 207. ' In foul weather, it would not be amiss for them to 
learn to dance, that is, to learn just so much (for all beyond*is 
superfluous, if not worse) as may give them a graceful comport¬ 
ment of their bodies.'—Cowley's Proposition for the Advance¬ 
ment of Experimental Philosophy (§ ' The School'). 

PAGE 208. The sale of Italian paintings at the 'Three Chairs' is 
advertised in No. 64 and subsequent papers. 

68. PAGE 209. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, i. 355. 

Tully. De Amicitia, vi. 22. 

Bacon. Essays (‘ Of Friendship'), edited by Wright, page 107. 

PAGE 210. See Ecclcsia.sticus, vi, ix, xxii, and xxvii. 

PAGE 211. Morum comitas. Cicero, passim, especially De Ojficiis, 
ii. Cf. the motto of the 112th Taller. 

Difficilis, etc. Martial, Epigrams, xii. 47. 

69 - PAGE 212. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, i. 54. 

With this paper on the power of trade compare No. 174. 

The old Philosopher. A reference to Diogenes the Cynic, who 
claimed to be of no country but koct/xoitoXItijs (Diogenes Laertius, 
vi. 63). Goldsmith later adopted the phrase 'Citizen of the 
World' as a title to the papers which appeared in the Public 
Ledger. 

PAGE 213, Grand Cairo. See page 513. 

The description of the toilet, which may be compared with 
that in the ii6th Taller, may have suggested lines 129-36 of 
The Rape of the Lock, canto i. See note to page 16. 

PAGE 214. Pyramids of China. Cf. No. 37, page 110. 

70. PAGE 215. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 63. 

Boileau gives this well-known anecdote of Moli^re in his 
Reflexions sur Longin, i. 

Cf. Sidney’s Apology for Poetry {Elizabethan Critical Essays, 
i. 178). ' Addison,' says Percy, in bis Reliques, ' is mistaken with 

regard to the antiquity of the common-received copy; for this, 
if one may judge from the style, cannot be older than the time 
of Elizabeth, and was probably written after the eulogium of Sir 
Philip Sidney: perhaps in consequence of it' (i. 19). Percy gives 
the text of ‘the genuine antique poem' (ib.); the errors in it 
are corrected in Skeat’s Specimens of English Literature. 

PAGE 216. The greatest Modern Criticks would seem to be a 
generality for Le Bossu, the author of the TraiU du Poeme 
Ipique (1675). I am indebted to Mr. Nichol Smith for pointing 
out the following passages which Addison adopts: ‘La premiere 
chose . . . est de choisir I'instruction et le point de Morale' 
(page 37); . . il emploie moins la force du raisonnement que 

I'insinuatiion et le plaisir, s'accommodant aux coutumes et 
aux inclinations particulidres de ses auditeurs' (page 44). 
Chapters viii and xi of Book i show that Homer and Virgil 



NOTES 


547 

'formed their plans in this view.' The allusion to the Greek 
States is also borrowed (page 66). 

PAGE 218. A Passage. Virgil. Aeneid, xi. 820-6. 

PAGE 219. Vicisti, etc., Aeneid, xii. 936-7; At veto, etc., Aeneid, 
X. 821-3. 

Addison returns to this ballad in No. 74. 

71. PAGE 220. Motto. Ovid, Heroic Epistles, iv. 10. 

Dryden. Works (Scott and Saintsbury), xi, 488, lines 79- 
116. Steele omits line 81 (after the second in the quotation), 
For Cymon shunned the Church, and used not much to pray, 
and lines 102-3 (after the twenty-second in the same). 

Where two beginning paps were scarcely spied, 

For yet their places were but signilied. 

PAGE 221. The letter of the 'enamoured footman’ is believed to 
be genuine. James Hirst, a servant of Steele’s (and Addison's) 
friend the Hon. Edward Wortley, had by mistake enclo.sed a 
letter to his ‘mistress’ in a parcel which he delivered to his 
master. Mr. Wortley refused to return it, saying: ‘No, James. 
You shall be a great man. This letter must appear in the 
Spectator’ (Chalmers, i. 434). 

72. PAGE 223. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, iv. 208-0. 

Whet. Cf. advertisement in the Tatler (No. 138): 'Whereas 
Mr. Bickerstaff . . . has received Information, That there are 
in and about the Royal-Exchange a sort of Persons commonly 
known by the name of Whetters, who drink themselves into an 
intermediate State of being neither drunk or sober . . .' See 
also Tatler, No. 141. 

PAGE 224. Ben Johnson’s Club. See page 522. The twenty- 
fourth and last rule ran; 'Neminem reum pocula faciunto. 
Focus perennis esto.’ 

Kit-Cat and October. See page 521. 

PAGE 225. Whisk or whist. It is so spelt in The Country Gentle¬ 
man’s Vade-Mecum, London, 1699, page 63 (Halliwell). 

To moisten (or ‘wet’) their Clay, as a humorous synonym 
for 'to drink,' does not seem to be older than the first decade of 
the eighteenth century. (See the Oxford English Dictionary.) 

73. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, i. 328. 

PAGE 226. Cicero. Tusculan Disputations, v. xxiv. 

The Ring. See page 539. 

PAGE 227. Paradise Lost, i. 376 et sqq. 

In the Apocrypha. Bel and the Dragon, 3 et sqq. 

A Tale of Chaucer. From the pesudo-Chaucerian poem, The 
Remedie of Love (c. 1530), printed in Chalmers’s Poets, i. 539 
stanzas 8 and 9). 

Snuff-taking by ladies was quite d la mode in the days of the 
spectator. See Nos. 57, 91, and especially 344. 'My sister 
. . . sits with her nose full of snuff . . . reading Plays and 
Romances' {Tatler, No. 75). 'After this, we turned our Dis¬ 
course into a more gay style, and parted: But betbre we did so, 
I made her resign her Snuff-box for ever, and half drown her 
self with washing away the Stench of the Musty ’ [Tatler, I^o. 79), 



548 THE SPECTATOR 

See also Nos. 35 and 140; Swift’s Journal to Stella, 3rd Novem¬ 
ber 1711. 

74. PAGE 228. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, iv. 88. 

The earlier paper will be found on pages 215-19. See notes 
thereon. 

PAGE 229. Audiet, etc. Horace, Odes, i. ii. 23-4. 

Vocal, etc. Virgil, Georgies, iii. 43-5. 

PAGE 230. The lines Adversi, etc., are printed by Addison and his 
editors as one passage. Lines 1-2 are from Aeneid, xi. 605-6; 
3-5, Aeneid, vii. 682-4; and 5-8, ib. 712-15. 

Turnus, etc. Aeneid, ix. 47. Vidisti, etc. Ib. 269-70. 

*A deep and deeply Blow,* a printer's error in the original 
edition. 

PAGE 231. Has inter, xii. 318-20. 

Cadit, etc. Aeneid, ii. 426-8. The 1712 text prints est after 
visum. 

PAGE 232. Hudibras, i. iii. 94-6. 

And, being down, still laid about: 

As Widdrington in doleful dumps 

Is said to fight upon his stumps. 

Non pudet, etc. Aeneid, xii. 229-31. 

75 PAGE 233. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. xvii. 23. 

This paper is supplementary to No. 65. 

76 PAGE 236. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. viii. 17. 

La Calprendde’s romance of Pharamond was published in 
Paris in i66i, and was translated into English in 1677 by John 
Phillips, Milton's nephew. 

Y, PAGE 238. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, 1. Ixxxvi. 8-10. In the 
1712 text it is printed in two lines; ‘Non convivere licet,’ etc. 

The sketch of Will Honeycomb as a rdveur or distrait is 
borrowed from La Bruydre: ‘II se prom^ne sur I’eau, et il 
demande quelle heure il est: on lui pr6sente une montre, 5, 
peine I'a-t-il re9ue, que ne songcant plus ni k I’heure, ni k la 
montre, il la jette dans la rivi('‘re, comme une chose qui I'em- 
barrasse' {CaracUres, xi, ‘Do THomme'). Budgell gives this 
episode an English colour; the other freaks of Menalcas he 
acknowledges (page 240) as a direct transcript from his French 
original (ib.). De Brancas, brother of the Due de Villars, is 
said to have been La Bruy^re’s model for Menalcas. 

PAGE 239. Great Wit. Absalom and Achitophel, i. 163-4: 

Great wits are sure to madness near allied, etc. 

‘Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae.'— 
Seneca, De Tranquillitate Animi, xv. 

Mathematicians. Perhaps an allusion to the familiar tales 
about Sir Isaac Newton, 

PAGE 240. Jesuit. See page 14. 

78. PAGE 242. Motto. See first paragraph. 

Laurence Eusden has been named as Steele's Cambridge 
correspofident (H. Morley). Sec No. 54. 

PAGE 244. The Lowngers. Cf. page 165. 

VoM, your self. Steele doubtless revised the humorous 



NOTES 


549 

‘petition’ and 'remonstrance' (No. So) with increased amuse¬ 
ment, for the chief task of emendation which fell to him and his 
collaborators in the preparation of these volumes was the re¬ 
adjustment of the Whos and Thais. For example, in No. 72, of 
eight alterations seven are the substitution of ‘ wlio ’ and ‘ which ’ 
for ‘that.’ 

79. PAGE 245. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. xvi. 52. 

PAGE 246. M. T. Is this ‘Mary Tuesday' of No. 24? 

PAGE 247. Hecaiissa. See page 146. 

Female Library. See page 112, 

Together, etc. Dr. Jolinson quotes the first line of this 
couplet, and adds ‘Anon.* 

Weekly Preparations. This is perhaps a reference to A 
Week's Preparation, etc. (London, 1679; forty-seventh edition, 
second part, 1736), a popular devotional work, one of several 
of its kind bearing similar titles. 

PAGE 248. To say black is the eye, to find fault with. ‘ 1 defy any¬ 
body to say black is my eye’ (Fielding, Tom Jones, ix, iv). 

80. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. xi. 27. 

Babies, dolls. Cf. Nos. 478 and 500 (‘little Girls tutoring 
their Babies’), and Tatler, No. 95. 

Visitings. See page 528. 

PAGE 250. Line 2. Hands. So the early texts. Several later 
editions read ‘Bands.’ 

PAGE 251. Line 4. So punctuated in the original texts. Abetter 
reading is obtained by placing the second comma after the 
second ‘That.’ 

The line, wliich Steele gives incorrectly, is not in The Indian 
Emperor, but in A ureng-Zebe (iv. i): 

You love the name 

So well, your every question ends in that; 

You force me still to answer you, Moral. 

'Egad,’ '/ vow to gad,’ 'And all that’ are constantly on the 
lips of Failer, the ‘hanger-on’ of Sir Timorous in Dryden's 
Wild Gallant. These mannerisms are burlesqued in The 
Rehearsal in the speeches of Bayes. 


Dedication, page 252. Charles Montagu, first Earl of Halifax, had 
been praised by Addison in his Account of the Greatest English 
Poets, and by Tickeli in the Dedication to his Homer. Steele 
dedicated the fourth volume of the Tatler to him (April 1711). 
Halifax succeeded Bubb Dodington as Pope’s 
full-blown Bufo, puff’d by every quill; 

Fed with soft dedication all day long. 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, 232-3. 

81 page 253. Motto. Statius, Thebaid, ii. 128. 

It was the custom of the playhouse at this time for the wits 
and men about town to go to the side boxes, and for the ladies 
to sit in the front or middle boxes (cf. Nos. 88, 311* 377). Steele 
epitomizes an audience thus: ‘Three of the fair sex for the front 
boxes, two gentlemen of wit and pleasure for the side-boxes, and ‘ 



550 


THE SPECTATOR 


three substantial citizens for the pit’ [Theatre, No, 3). Cf, Con¬ 
greve’s Double-Dealer, 11. ii; Toiler, Nos. 77 and 217; Rape of the 
Lock, V, 14; and Gay’s Toilette, 27. At the first performance of 
Cato, Addison entertained Bishop Berkeley and some friends 
in a side box with ‘ two or three fiasks of burgundy and cham¬ 
pagne.' Dr. Johnson’s definition of a side box as the ‘seat for 
the ladies on the side of the theatre ’ shows that by his time that 
part of the house was no longer reserved for only the bolder or 
less reputable of their sex. He and his party occupied the 
' front row in a side-box ’ at Covent Garden on the first night of 
She Stoops to Conquer (Forster’s Goldsmith, iv. xv, quoted by 
Austin Dobson). 

PAGE 253. Patches. See page 153. The ‘setting’ of the headdress 
was also symbolic of political leanings. Cf. the Freeholder, 
No. 8: 'She has contrived to shew her principles by the setting 
of her commode,’ 

PAGE 254. Addison quotes from Cowley's Davideis, iii. 403-4, but 
changes the sex of the tiger for his present purpose. He borrows 
the quotation from Statius from Cowley’s notes. 

PAGB 255. Oration of Pericles. Thucydides, ii. xlv. 

82. PAGE 256. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, iii. 33. 

Ludgate was, till the order for its removal in July 1760, a 
prison for debtors who were freemen of the city, lawyers, or 
clergymen. 

PAGE 257. Where with like Haste, etc. Denham's Cooper’s Hill, 
lines 31-2. ' Tho’ several ways.' 

83. PAGE 259. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, i. 464. 

PAGE 261. An old Man. Hogarth has satirized this image in his 
‘Time smoking a Picture' (1761). See also his Analysis 0) 
Beauty (1753 edition, page 118). 

84. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, ii. 6-8. 

Duelling. See page 29 and note. 

Pkaramond. See page 236 and note. The names Eucrate 
(ib.) and Spinamont are coined by Steele to give point to his 
modern application, the former signifying ‘temperate' [eCKparoi), 
the latter being a disguise for Mr. Richard Thornhill, who shot 
Sir Cholmondeley Dering in a duel in Tothill Fields on 9th 
May 1711. This encounter, which according to Swift, ‘made a 
noise' at the time, is referred to by him in his Journal to Stella 
under that date. See B. I. (Thornhill, Richard). Jeremy 
Collier had already anticipated some of Steele's arguments in 
his conference' Of Duelling' between Philotimus and Philalethes 
[Essays, second edition, 1697, page 103). 

PAGE 263. Line 11. . . which spoke the utmost sense of his 

Majesty without ability to express it,’ A. 

85. PAGE 264. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 319-22. 

PAGE 265. Pye, piety, a very ancient pun. Cf. page 521. 

The evergreen ‘ History of the 'Two Children in the Wood ’ 
was printed with ‘The old Song upon the Same' in chap-book 
form in i^oo. See Ashton’s Chapbooks of the Eighteenth Century, 
page 369 et sqq., for an account of this rare pamphlet. The 
earliest version of the ballad in the British Museum is dated 1640. 



NOTES 


551 

paje 265. Fourth line from foot. *. . . such as Virgil himself 
would have touched upon had the like story been told by that Divine 
Poet. For which A. With, this allusion to Virgil in 

A cf. Nos. 70 and 74. Addison’s emendations throughout this 
paper are for the most part a reduction of the emphasis of the 
first issue—e.g. ‘wonderfully natural’ becomes ‘natural’—a 
peace-offering to the ‘ little conceited Wits ’ who had not relished 
bis praise of the Ballads. In the concluding paragraph Addison 
may refer to an anonymous threepenny pamphlet, ascribed to 
Dr. William Wagstalfe, A Comment upon the History of Tom 
Thumb, which reached a second edition in 1711. ‘It is a sur¬ 
prising thing,' writes the satirist, ‘that in an Age so Polite as 
this, in which we have such a number of Poets, Criticks, and 
Commentators, some of the best things that are extant in 
our language should pass unobserv’d. . . . Indeed we had an 
Enterprising Genius of late, that has thought fit to disclose the 
Beauties of some Pieces to the World, that might have been 
otherwise indiscernable, and believ’d trifling and insipid, for 
no other Reason but their unpolish'd Homeliness of Dress. 
And if we were to apply our selves, instead of the Classicks, 
to the Study of Ballads ... it is impossible to say what im¬ 
provement might be made to Wit in general and the art of 
Poetry in particular.' The story of Tom Thumb will be found 
‘ superior to either of those incomparable Poems of Chevy Chase 
or The Children in the Wood' (pages i, 2). Ho commends ‘the 
Beauty, Regularity, and Majestic Simplicity of the Relation’ 
(page 18) and adds: 'tho' I am very well satisfied with this 
l^erformance, yet according to the usual modesty of Authors, 1 
am oblig’d to tell the World it will be a great Satisfaction to me, 
knowing my own insufficiency, if I have given but some hints 
of the Beauties of this Poem*^ (page 21). And again: ‘ The most 
refin’d Writers of this Age have been delighted with the reading 
it. Mr. Tho. D’Urfey, I am told, is an Admirer, and Mr. John 
Diinton has been heard to say, more than once, “ He had rather 
be the Author of it than all his Works"’ (page 23). 

PAGE 266. Line 9. ‘ . . . for a goodnatured Reader not,’ A. 

Horace. Odes, in. iv. 9-13. 

The Late Lord Dorset. Charles Sackville, the ‘Eugenius’ of 
Dryden’s Essay of Dramatic Poesy. 

Greatest Candour. ‘Greatest Humanity’ in A. 

Moliere’s Thoughts. See Le Misanthrope, i. ii, where Alceste 
quotes an old song, and declares its superiority to a sonnet about 
Phillis, just recited. He adds: 

La rime n’est pas riche, ct le style en est vieux: 

Mais ne voyez-vous pas que cela vaut bien mieux 
Que ces colifichets dont le bon sens raurmure, 

Et que la passion parle -14 toute pure? 

See also the Prologue to Rowe’s Jane Shore (1713) for the ex¬ 
pression of the same notion. 

86, PAGE 267. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, ii. 447. • 

Speak that / may see thee. ‘Ut te videam aliquid eloquere/ 
a saying ascribed to Socrates by Apuleius in his Florida (ii). . 



552 


THE SPECTATOR 


PAGE 268. Martial, Epigrams, xii. liv. 

The ingenious Author is probably Baptista della Porta, whoso 
De Humana Physiognomia, in four books, appeared in 1586. 

Nahum Tate translated P. Coste's life of Cond6 in 1693, 
under the title The Life of Louis of Bourbon, late Prince of Cond^, 
digested into Annals. . . . Done out of French. 

PAGE 269. Socrates was an extraordinary Instance, The first half 
of the paragraph is a transcript from Cicero's De Fato, v, 
which recounts the diagnosis of Zopyrus the physiognomist; 
the second, concerning Socrates conquering his 'particular 
vices,' from the Tusculan Disputations, iv. xxxvii. 

Silenus. Plato, Symposium, 215A. 

Dr. Moore. Henry More, ‘the Platonist,' author of the 
Enchiridion Ethicum {1669). 

87. PAGE 270. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, ii. 17. 

Ugly Club. See page 52 and note. Idols. See page 226. 

PAGE 271. Hecatissa. See page 146. 

Sacrificed my Necklace, etc. See page 255. 

PAGE 272. ' T. T.‘ has been identified with Laurence Eusden. 

This paper in A concludes with the following advertisement: 
‘I'his is to give Notice, That the three Criticks who last Sunday 
settled the Characters of my Lord Rochester and Boileau, in the 
Yard of a Coffee-house in Fuller’s Rents, will meet this next 
Sunday at the same Time and Place, to finish the Merits of several 
Dramatick Writers: And will also make an End o/the Nature of 
True Sublime.' 

88. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, hi. 16. 

This paper, which is a companion to Nos. 96, 107, and 137, 
may be compared in many of its details with Act i, sc. i of 
Steele’s Conscious Lovers, and with his dramatic fragment, The 
Gentleman. Townley's High Life below Stairs (Drury Lane, 
October 1759) is said to have been founded on it, 

PAGE 274. Purle, ‘a kind of medicated malt liquor, in which 
wormwood and aromaticks are infused’ (Johnson). Cf. also 
Purl-royal (Halliwell). 

The Ring. See page 539. 

White’s. See pages 513, 542. It was situated at the lower 
end of St. James's Street, and was notorious as a resort of 
fashionable gamesters. It is the building in the background 
of the fourth plate of Hogarth's ' Rake's Progress' against which 
the artist has directed a streak of lightning. 

Side-boxes. See page 253 and note. 

89. PAGE 275. Motto. Persius, Satires, v. 64-71. Addison printed 
juvenesque for puerique in the first line. 

PAGE 276. Philander and Strephon had been introduced by the 
Tatler. See especially Nos. 13 and 245. 

PAGE 278. Paradise Lost, viii. 469-95, 500-11. 

90. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, iii. go-roo. 

Notions of Plato. Republic (towards the end), Gorgias (524), 
but espetially Phaedo (81). 

PAGE 279. The Platonists. So, too, Henry More, referred to on 
page 269. 



NOTES 


553 

PAGE 280. Virgil. Aeneid, vi. 604-7. Dryden’a translation, 
vi. 818-23: 'By their sides is set.’ 

Monsieur Poniignan. Addison's learned author is Bayle, 
and ‘ the other occasion' is his article on the abbey of F6nte- 
vrault [Frontevaux]. Pontignan, the hero of the adventure, is 
introduced in a footnote (in the editions after that of 1697) 
thus: ‘This brings to my mind an adventure I read in a little 
book which was printed at Paris and Holland anno 1682,' i.e. 
the Acadimie galanie. The ‘gay rambler,’ runs the footnote, 
found ‘these ladies, how immodest soever they may be repre¬ 
sented, were more prudent than the Devotees of Frontevaux.' 

91. PAGE 282. Motto. Virgil, iii. 244. This paper, accord¬ 

ing to Chalmers (ii. 10, iv. 128, notes), was written by Hughes. 

Her Snuff-Box. See page 547. 

PAGE 283. Fine Gentleman. See No. 75. 

PAGE 284. Sidley (Sedley), etc. From Rochester's Allusion to the 
Tenth Satire of the First Book of Horace, lines 64-70. The 
original reads (2) ‘resistless Power’ and (5) 'Betwixt declining 
Virtue.' 

Celia the Fair. Dryden, A New Song (xi. page 176). Cor¬ 
rectly, 'Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of fifteen.’ 

Barn Elms, a favourite duelling ground. The Kit-Cat club¬ 
house was there (see page 521). 

PAGE 285. Rival Mother. There were Rival Brothers, Rival Fools, 
Rival Kings, Rival Ladies, Rival Queens, Rival Sisters familiar 
to playgoers of Steele's day. Perhaps this hit at the popular 
epithet would specially recall Dryden's Rival Ladies, in which 
there is a character named Honoria. 

92. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. ii. 61-3. 

Tea-Equipage. See page 517. 

Leonora (see page no) has been identified as Mrs. Perry, 
sister of Miss Shepheard, the ‘Parthenia’ of No. 140 and 
‘Leonora' of No. 163. Both were kinswomen of Sir Fleetwood 
Shepheard. 

Dalton’s Countrey Justice first appeared in 1630, and ran 
through many editions before that of 1690, the last preceding 
the publication of this paper.— The Compleat Jockey may refer 
to The Experienced Jockey, Compleat Horseman, or Gentleman's 
Delight, a duodecimo of 1684.—The Clavis Apocalyptica (second 
edition, 1632) of the ‘sublime genius’ Joseph Mede was trans¬ 
lated by Richard More in 1643, and was the occasion of an 
extensive literature of ‘observations’ and ‘analyses,’ continuing 
even to the nineteenth century. 

PAGE 286. The first volume of The Secret Letters and Negociations 
of the Mareschal d'Estrades, Monsieur Colbert, and the Count 
d'Avaux . . . had just been published (1710).—Bayle’s Die- 
tionnaire historique et critique (Rotterdam, 1697, second edition, 
1702) appeared in an English translation ‘with corrections by 
the Author’ in 1710 (4 vols. fol.). Mr. Spectator and his con¬ 
temporaries were much beholden for their illustragtions to Bayle, 
which, according to Dennis, was 'now spread throughout 
Europe’ {An Essay upon Public Spirit, 1711).—William Wall’s 



554 


THE SPECTATOR 


History of Infant Baptism, in two parts, appeared in 1705, and 
in a second edition in 1707. One Thomas Wall wrote on the 
same subject a few years earlier (1691-2).— The Finishing 
Stroke, Being a vindication of the Patriarchal Scheme of Govern¬ 
ment, was written by Charles Leslie (London, 1711, 8vo). It 
deals with Hoadley's Institution of Civil Government (1710) and 
Higden's Defence. —The husbands' list of books of Dissuasives, 
etc,, is, of course, mostly fictitious; but the subject of Susanna 
was a favourite of the cheap press (cf. page 524), and the 
Pleasures of a Country Life may be the sub-title of J. Pomfret's 
Choice (1709).—There was a Government of the Tongue, by 
the Author of the Whole Duty of Man (sixth edition, 1697).— 
Edmund Wingate's Arithmetique made Easie was a popular 
text-book which had reached an eleventh edition in 1704,— 
Elizabeth Grey, Countess of Kent, gave her name to a popular 
collection, entitled A Choice Manuell or Rare and Select Secrets 
in Physick and Chyrurgery, etc. The second part called A True 
Gentlewoman's Delight had reached a nineteenth edition in 1687. 
—Pharamond (page 548).— Cassandra (page 533). 

PAGE 286. Prudes. See No. 217 and Taller, Nos. 102 and 126. 

All for Love or The World well Lost, a tragedy by Dryden 
(1678).— Sophonisba or Hannibal’s Overthrow, a tragedy by Nat 
Lee (1676), which, according to Langbaine, ‘always appeared on 
the stage with applause, especially from the fair sex^; its per¬ 
formance at Drury Lane is advertised in No. 119, A. The 
Fatal Marriage or The Innocent Adultery, by Southeme (1694), 
known later in the century under the name of Isabella. — Mith- 
ridates. King of Ponius, by Nat Lee (1678).— The Rival Queens 
or The Death of Alexander the Great (pages 535, 536).— Aureng- 
Zebe, a tragedy by Dryden (1676), referred to on page 549.— 
Theodosius or The Force of Love, by Nat Lee (page 536). 

PAGE 287. Will’s. See page 513. 

93. Motto. Horace, Odes, i. xi. 6-8. 

Seneca. Epistles, x, and De Brevitate Vitae, §1. Cf. motto, 
No. 59 (page 179). 

PAGE 290. Line 30. The sense is clear, though the syntax is 
incomplete. 

94. PAGE 291. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, x. xxiii. 7-8. 

Mr. Boyle. 'Basilius Vjilentinus . . . publisht long since an 
excellent Treatise of Antimony, inscribed Currus Triumphalis 
Antimonii. . . . He gives this account of his leaving many 
things unmentioned, that the Shortness of Life makes it im¬ 
possible for one Man thoroughly to learn Antimony, in which 
every Day something of new is discovered ’ {Some Considerations 
touching the Usefulness of Experimental Naturall Philosophy, 
Oxford, 1664, pages 13, 14). 

Locke's Essay concerning Human Understanding, ii. xiv. 4. 

PAGE 292. Malebranche. See pages 533-4. 

Alcoran . . . Turkish Tales. The journey of Mahomet is 
referred tf> in the seventeenth sura of the Koran, but the details 
were derived by Addison from the Turkish Tales, published by 
Tonson in 1708. 



NOTES 


555 


95. PAGE 294. Motto. Seneca. Hippolytus, ii. 607. 

General Mourning. See No. 64. 

PAGE 296. Deeper Sch^ars, etc. See page 287. 

Tom's, a well-known coffee-house in Russell Street, Covent 
Garden, almost opposite Button’s. There was a 'Tom's' in 
Cornhill, and another in the Strand. See Austin Dobson's 
Eighteenth Century Vignettes, iii. 340. 

Grecian. See page 514. 

Trader in Cheapside. See page 286. 

Theodosius. See page 286 and note. 

Bishop of Cambray. Fcnelon. 

PAGE 297. Anabella. Cf. ante, page 161. 

96. Motto. Horace, Satires, ii. vii. 2-3. 

PAGE 298. Mulberry Garden, on tlie site of Buckingham Palace, 
succeeded Spring Garden as a fashionable resort. In Evelyn’s 
time it was ‘ the only place of refreshment about the town for 
persons of the best quality to be exceeding cheated at' {Diary, 
10th May 1654). See Pepys's Diary, passim. It gave the title 
to a comedy by Sir Charles Sedley {1668). See Shadwell’s 
Humourists {1670), Act in. 

PAGE 299. The New Exchange was a fashionable fancy goods mart 
in the Strand, on the site of the stables of Durham House, over 
against the modern Bedford Street. It was much frequented 
by the men about town after the Restoration. Young Bookwit 
in Steele’s Lying Lover calls it ‘a seraglio, a living gallery of 
beauties staring from side to side' {ii. ii). It is constantly 
alluded to in the Restoration drama. See No. 155. 

97. PAGE 300. Motto. Virgil, Atneid, vi. 436. 

Steele has already discussed the duello, ante, page 261. See 
note there. 

98. PAGE 303. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, vi. 501. 

As Grass-hoppers, etc. Numbers, xiii. 33. 

PAGE 304. Tot premit, etc. Juvenal, Satires, vi. 502-4. Addison 
printed 'Aliam credas.' 

Fontange, Commode. The commode was a tall head-dress 
fashionable with ladies in England during the closing decades 
of the seventeenth century. Mile de Fontanges introduced 
the coiffure in France in 1679, It consisted of a wire framework 
decorated with lace or silk, to which lappets or streamers were 
sometimes affixed. See Nos. 263, 265, also note on page 550 
of this volume. 

Addison's account of the head-dress and of Thomas Conecte, 
Carmelite monk (burned 1434), and his references to Guillaume 
Paradin's Annales de Bourgoigne (1566) and Bertrand d'Argen- 
tre's Histoire de Bretagne (1582) are taken from Bayle's Dic¬ 
tionary (article 'Conecte'), referred to ante, page 286. 

99. PAGE 305. Motto. Horace, Satires, 1. vi. (»3. 

PAGE 307. Lines 16-19. I cannot . . . Truth, not in A. The 
reference is to Herodotus, i. cxxxvi. 

An English Peer. Bishop Percy was informed ,that Addison 
here alludes to William Cavendish, ffrst Duke of Devonshire 
(1640-1707). 



556 THE SPECTATOR 

100. PAGE 308. Motto. Horace, Satires, i. v. 44. 

Valetudinarians. See page 528. 

101. PAGE 310. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 5--10. 

Censure, etc., is one of Swift’s Thoughts on Various Subjects, 
Moral and Diverting (1706). 

PAGE 31 1. Recentibus odiis. Tacitus, Annals, i. i. 

102. PAGE 313. Motto. Phaedrus, Fables, iii. xiv. 12-13. 

This paper on the art of the fan is a sequel to Steele’s account 
of the 'Management of that Utensil’ in the 52nd Taller, and 
recalls the verses on Flavia’s 'instrument' quoted in the 239th 
T atler. 

103. PAGE 316. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 240-2. 

Late Archbishop's Posthumous Works. Tillotson’s sermon 
'On Sincerity.' See also page 326. 

PAGE 317. Words are like Money. Cf. the metaphor in Hobbes’s 
Leviathan, i. iv; ‘Words are wise men's counters, they do but 
reckon by them;.but they are the money of fools.' 

104. PAGE 318. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, i. 316-17. 

PAGE 319. Tully says. De Officiis, i. xxvii. 

'The Spectator returns to the subject of ladies’ riding costumes 
in Nos. 331, 435, and 485 (advertisement). A ‘Compleat 
Riding Suit for a Lady’ is described in an advertisement to 
No. 81, A. 

The letter has been ascribed to John Hughes. 

X05. PAGE 321. Motto. Terence, Andria, i. 60-1. 

Broke Windows. See page 532. 

PAGE 322. Ombre. See the description in The Rape of the Lock, 
iii. 25 et sqq.; and Prior’s Upon Playing at Ombre with Two 
Ladies. 

106. PAGE 323. Motto. Horace, Odes, i. xvii. 14-16, 

Roger de Coverley. See page 515. 

PAGE 324. Press'd forward. See page 326. 

PAGE 325. A Clergyman . . . that understood a little of Back- 
Gammon. So, too, Swift in his correspondence with Gay: 'In 
what esteem are you with the vicar of the parish? Can you 
play with him at backgammon?’ (4th May 1732). And again: 
*I believe I formerly desired to know whether the vicar of 
Amesbury can play at backgammon' (12th August 1732). 

PAGE 326. W. Fleetwood had been Bishop of St. Asaph since 
1708; but there may be no point in the reference. 

107. Motto. Phaedrus, Fables, ii. Epilogue, 1-3. 

Place themselves in his way. Cf. page 324. 

In No. 124 (A) is advertised 'A Quarterly Contribution for 
the Benefit of Faithful Servants.’ See also page 562. 

PAGE 327. A n Husband. By the will of the' perverse widow,’ only 
in the old sense of a thrifty man or economist. 

108. PAGE 329. Motto. Phaedrus, Fables, n. v. 3. 

Mr. William Wimble was identified, even as far back as 1741, 
with Thomas Morecraft, described in an obituary notice in the 
Centlemaii's Magazine as ' a Baronet’s younger Son, the Person 
mentioned by the Spectator in the character of Will. Wimble’ 
(2nd July 1741). This is repeated in a note to the edition of 



NOTES 


557 

1766. We may dismiss this biographical guess, as we have 
others of its kind (see page 515). If there be any prototype, 
it must be found in the 'Honourable Mr. Thomas Cules, of 
Gule-Hall, in the County of Salop,' who is introduced in the 
Taller (No. 256). He, too, 'had chosen to starve like a man 
of Honour,' as became a ‘cadet of a very ancient family,' and 
was fond of 'twisting a whip,' and of making nut-crackers 'for 
his Diversion, in order to make a present now and then to his 
Friends.’ 

PAGE 330. lie carries a Tulip-Root. The tulip mania was abating 
its seventeenth-century extravagance, but it was still a dan¬ 
gerous snare to enthusiasts. See the 218th Taller (30th August 
1710). 

109. PAGE 331. Motto. Horace, Satires, 11. ii. 3. 

PAGE 332. The Tilt-Yard lay in front of the old Banqueting Hall, 
towards Charing Cross. It covered a portion of the present 
parade of St. James’s. (See Fisher’s Ground Plan of Whitehall, 
1680; also Stow’s Survey, edited by Strype.) 

Jenny Mann’s Tilt-Yard Coffee-House, a military rendezvous, 
stood on the site on which the office of the Paymaster-General 
was afterwards built. It was in high repute as late as Boswell’s 
time {Correspondence, i6th February 1762). 

My Grandmother appears. Planche discusses the description 
of the old costume in this essay in his History of British Costume 
(1874), page 351. 

PAGE 333. Whitepot. ' A dish made of cream, sugar, rice, currants, 
cinnamon, etc. It was formerly much eaten in Devonshire' 
(Halliwell). Cf. Hudibras, i. i. 299: Taller, No. 245; Gay’s 
Shepherd's Week ('Monday'). 

no. PAGE 334. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, ii. 755. 

Feedeth the young Ravens. Psalm c.Klvii. 9. 

PACE 335. Locke’s Essay concerning Human Understanding, ii. 
xxxiii. 10. 

PAGE 336. Lucretius. De Rerum Natura, iv. 33 et sqq. 

Josephus. Antiquities of the Jews, xvii. xiii. 4. 

111. PAGE 337. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. ii. 45. 

PAGE 338. Line 36. '. . . propagate his Kind, and provide him¬ 

self,’ A . 

Haeres, etc. Horace, Epistles, ii. ii. 175-6. 

112. PAGE 340. Motto. Pythagoras, Carmina Aurea, 1-2. 

113. PAGE 342. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, iv. 4. 

The perverse Widow. Cf. ante, page 6. A persistent tradi¬ 
tion identifies her with a widow, Mrs. Catherine Beevey, to 
whom Steele dedicated the second volume of The Ladies Library 
{ante, page 535). She was described by Mrs. Manley as 'one 
of those dark and lasting beauties that strike with reverence 
anA yet delight.' The reader desirous to know the pros and 
cons may refer to Nichols’s Illustrations, iv. 820; W. Henry 
Wills's Sir Roger de Coverley (1850), pages 196-99.' and to an 
article in Longman's Magazine, April 1897. Some editors, with 
a like ingenuity, have fixed on Lady Warwick, whom Addison 
was to many in 1716. 



558 THE SPECTATOR 

PAGE 345. Tansy. Old receipts for tansy cakes and tansy pud¬ 
dings will be found in Halliwell's Dictionary. Cf. Herrick's 
Hesperides, No. 691; Chambers's Book of Days, i. 425, 429. 

PAGE 346. Martial, Epigrams, i. Ixviii. 1-6. 

114. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. xviii. 24. 

Dipped. Mortgaged. 

PAGE 347. Four Shillings in the Pound. The land tax. 

PAGE 348. The elegant Author is Thomas Sprat, who prefixed a 
Latin life to the edition of Cowley's Latin poems, afterwards 
enlarged and printed with Cowley’s English works. 

Great Vulgar. From Cowley's rendering of Horace's Odi 
profanum vulgus et arceo, ‘not exactly copied, but rudely 
imitated ’ by tdm at the conclusion of his essay ' Of Greatness ’: 
Hence ye profane; I hate ye all, 

Both the great vulgar, and the small. 

PAGE 349. If e'er Ambition. From a verse passage in Cowley's 
essay ‘Of Greatness.' Line 4, ‘Blessing.' 

X15. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, x. 356. 

PAGE 351. Perverse Widow. See No. 113. 

Dr. Sydenham. See page 528. 

Medicina Gymnastica or A Treatise concerning the power oj 
Exercise, with respect to the Animal Economy, by Francis Fuller 

(1705)* 

Treatise of Exercises. Artis Gymnasticae apud Antiques 
. , . Libri vi (Venice, 1569). By Hieronymus Mercurialis. 
See iv. 5, and vi. 2. This book passed through many editions 
and latterly included a description of the Palaestra by the Roman 
architect Vitruvius. Cf. pages 487 and 502 of this volume. 

116. PAGE 352. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, iii. 43-4. 

PAGE 353. My hounds are bred, etc. Midsummer Night's Dream, iv. 
i. 116-22. The later description of the 'chiding' of the hounds 
and of the 'double echo’ show that Mr. Spectator himself was 
indebted to Shakespeare. Cf.: 

And mark the musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Ib., lines 109-10, 

Never did I hear 
Such gallant chiding. 

Ib., lines 113-14. 

Cf. Gervase Markham’s Countrey Contentments (1615), page 6, as 
to the selection of the dogs' 'mouths' for 'sweetness of cry.' 
Also Somerville's Chace, i. 127. 'Mr. Budgell has shovni himself 
to be no sportsman, by fixing the date of his hunting-party in 
the month of July, and by making Sir Roger hunt with stop- 
hounds, which are, I believe, peculiar to stag-hunting' (note 
in Chalmers's edition). 

PAGE 355. Dryden’s Epistle to John Driden, lines 73-4, 88-95. 

117. PAGE 356. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, viii. 108. 

It is hardly necessary to believe that Addison was prompted 
to this paper on witchcraft by the misfortunes of some local 
‘Moll White,' such as the Jane Wenham of Henry Morley's note. 
The 'tabby cat,’ the 'pins,' the 'saying of prayers backwards/ 



NOTES 


559 

etc., were by tradition the necessary horrors of every successful 
prosecution. 

PAGE 356. Line 37. ‘. . .in Ottway, which I could not forbear re¬ 

peating on this occasion,* A. The quotation is from a speech of 
Chamont in The Orphan, Act ii. Line i runs: 'Through a 
close lane.' 

118. PAGE 358. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, iv. 73. 

PAGE 360. We followed the Sound, etc. 'A little water-colour 
sketch by Mr. Thackeray of this scene was not long since in 
the market. It is now [1896] in the possession of Sir Henry 
Thompson* (Dobson's Selections from Steele, page 460). 

119. PAGE 361. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, i. 19-20. 

120. PAGE 364. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, i. 415-16. 

Line 34. Deposite. ‘Depose' in A. 

121. PAGE 367. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, iii. 60. 

Tully has observed. De Natiira Deorum, ii. 51. See the 
concluding paragraph of this essay. 

Dampier's Voyages, i. 39 (fourth edition, 1699). 

PAGE 368. Locke's Essay concerning Human Understanding, ii. 
ix. 13. 

PAGE 369. Henry More's Antidote against Atheisme (1653), ii. 10, §5. 

Boyle's Disquisition about the Final Causes of Natural Things, 
section ii. 

122. PAGE 370. Motto. Publilius Syrus, Fragments. Some texts 
read ‘facundus.* 

PAGE 371. Game-Act. See page 7. 

PAGE 372. The Knight's Head. Portrait signs were not uncom¬ 
mon. Pontack, the famed purveyor, had a likeness of his 
father on his signboard. Cf. the sign of the Swiss Count, 
'the features being strong, and fit for hanging high {Tatler, 
No. 18). 

123. PAGE 373. Motto. Horace, Odes, iv. iv. 33-6. 

PAGE 375. Cowley's words are: ‘But there is no fooling with life, 
when it is once turn'd beyond forty' {Essays, ‘The Danger of 
Procrastination'). 

Addison wrote to Mr. Wortley Montagu, on the day of the 
publication of this paper; ‘Being very well pleased with this 
day's Spectator, I cannot forbear sending you one of them, and 
desiring your opinion of the story in it. When you have a son 
I shall be glad to be his Leontinc, as my circumstances will 
probably be like his. . . .' 

124. PAGE 377. The Motto is an adaptation of Callimachus, Frag- 

menta, ccclix, rd ^ifiXlov Xaov k^ikI^. Athenaeus 

quotes it (iii. i) as a saying of Callimachus. 

Forty or fifty thousand Readers. Has this any bearing on the 
circulation of the Spectator, which was increasing (page 379) ? 
See page 522. 

PAGE 378. Wisdom, etc. Proverbs, i. 20-2. 

PAGE 379. Nox atra, etc. Virgil, Aeneid, ii. 360. 

Latin Proverb. ‘Lupus est homo homini,* Plautus, Asinaria, 
II. iv. 88. * 

125. Motto. Vii^, Aeneid, vi. 833-4. 



THE SPECTATOR 


560 

PAGE 380. Plutarch. De Inimicorum UHHtate, passim', Moralia, li, 
91; Life of Pericles (towards the end). 

PAGE 381. That great Rule. Luke, vi. 27. 

126. PAGE 382. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, x. 108. 

PAGE 383. Diodorus Siculus, i. xxxv. 

PAGE 384. Landed and money d interests. See page 516. 

127. PAGE 385. Motto. Persius, i. i. 

Dyer's. See page 537. 

PAGE 386. Petticoats. * I was in Hopes that I had brought them 
[the ladies] to some Order, and was employing my Thoughts on 
the Reformation of their Petticoats’ {Tatler, No. 115). Cf. ante, 
page 332. No. 118 {A) advertises, as just published. The 
Earthingale reviv'd, or More Work for a Cooper: A Panegyrick 
on the late, but most admirable Invention of the Hoop-Petticoat. 
Written at the Bath. 

Etherege’s Love in a Tub. Cf. pages 136 and 538. 

PAGE 387. Suits of Armour. Plutarch's Life of Alexander (to¬ 
wards the end). 

128. PAGE 388. Motto. Lucan, Pharsalia, i. 98. 

PAGE 390. Romances. See page 533. 

129. PAGE 391. Motto. Persius, v. 71-2. 

PAGE 392. Commode. See note on page 555. 

Petticoat. See No. 127 and note. 

The Ramillie Cock was the mode in 1706. 

PAGE 393. Monmouth Cock, fashionable from 1667. See Pepys’s 
Diary, 3rd June 1667 (Globe edition, page 502, note).—The 
Steenkirk was properly a kerchief of silk or lace, fashionable in 
Paris in the winter of 1692-3 after the battle at Steinkirk, 
though the name was freely applied to the newest whims of 
the milliners. 

130. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, vii. 748-9. 

131. PAGE 395. Motto. Virgil, Eclogues, x. 63. 

PAGE 397. A White Witch, of a species which, in Dryden's words, 
was ‘ mischievously good.’ See W. Henry Wills's Sir Roger 
de Coverley, page 207. 

Jesuit. Cf. pages 14 and 240. 

132. PAGE 398. Motto. Cicero, DcOni/ore, ir.iv. Steele printed the 
passage continuously without indicating the omissions, and 
added ‘esse’ after ‘ineptus.’ 

PAGE 399. Ephraim, ‘who cannot resist’ (page 400); a reference 
to Psalm Ixxviii. 9. 

Captain's Equipage, satirically applied to a single orderly. 

All the essays from No. 132 to No. 158 are, with two excep¬ 
tions (No. 135 by Addison and-No. 150 by Budgell), by Steele. 
Some light may be thrown on this by ' J. G.’s’ remarks on the 
Tatlers in his Present State of Wit, written in May 1711: ‘I am 
assur’d from good hands. That all the Visions and otiier Tracts 
in that way of writing, with a very great number of the most 
exquisite Pieces of Wit and Raillery throughout the Lucu¬ 
brations, are intirely of this-Gentleman’s Composing; which may 
in some Measure account for that different Genius, which ap¬ 
pears in the Winter Papers from those of the Summer; at which 



NOTES 


561 

time, as the Examiner often hinted, this Friend of Mr. Steele’s 
was.in Ireland.' Was Addison on holiday, or indisposed, or 
was he in Ireland looking after his threatened interests? 

PAGE 400. The Right we had of taking Place, etc., a contentious 
question which naturally arose from the bad condition of the 
highways. Cf. the pedestrian worry about ‘taking the wall,' 
humorously introduced in the Tatler (No. 256). 

133. PAGE 401. Motto. Horace, Odes, i. xxiv. 1-2. 

PAGE 402. These Instances. Plutarch's Life of Phocion. The 
anecdote of Nicocles is near the end. 

PAGE 403. A Friend. Stephen Clay of the Inner Temple, son of 
Edmund Clay, haberdasher. Steele refers to him frequently in 
his correspondence, chiefly in connection with his affairs in the 
West Indies. See Nichols’s edition of the Letters, volume i, 
where at page 222 are printed two sets of verses by Clay, The 
Maid's Complaint and A Song in Imitation of an Ode of Horace. 

134. PAGE 404. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, i. 521-2. 

PAGE 406. Manage our Snuff-Boxes. The sequel is in No. 138. 

135. PAGE 407. Motto. Horace, Satires, i. x. 9. 

PAGE 408. One of the greatest Genius's. This reference to Swift 
is an interesting clue to the origin of Addison's paper. Swift, 
in a letter in the Tatler (No. 230, 27th September 1710), exposes 
‘the corruption of our style,' and gives a sample letter showing 
the fashionable ‘abbreviations and elisions.' He also discusses 
the ‘ refinement' of giving but the first syllable of a word, taking 
as examples from the said letter the words mob, rep, pozz, which 
with incog, (also in the letter) are specially noted by Addison. 
He returns to the subject in A Proposal for Correcting, Improv¬ 
ing, and Ascertaining the English Tongue, in a letter addressed to 
Lord Oxford in February 1712 (published May 1712). It is a 
plea for the establishment of an academy 'to correct and fix 
the English language.’ Towards the conclusion he says: 'I 
would willingly avoid repetition, having, about a year ago, 
communicated to the public much of what I had to offer upon 
this subject, by the hands of an ingenious gentleman, who for a 
long time did thrice a week divert or instruct the kingdom by his 
papers, and is supposed to pursue the same design at present, 
under the title of Spectator.’ There are several references to 
the subject of this letter in the Journal to Stella, from 21st 
February to 17th July; and Voltaire discusses it in his twenty- 
fourth letter {Letires philosophiques, 1734). It is hardly 
necessary to follow Thomas Arnold in showing how wrongly 
Addison, or Steele (No. 147), understood the mysteries of es and 
eth or his and her. It might be more to the point to speculate 
on the amusing inconsistency between the doctrine of the essay 
and the practice of the revisers. 

136. PAGE 410. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 112. 

My Imagination, etc. 'The sentences may be made clearer 
by the insertion of ‘which’ after ‘adventures.’ 

Pultowa. 8th July 1709. » 

Count Piper was Prime Minister of Charles XII of Sweden. 

Deptford. In the spring of 1698. 



562 THE SPECTATOR 

PAGE 412. 'A make-bate, a busie-bodie, a pick-thanke, a seeke- 
trouble' (Florio). 

All for Love, etc., by Dryden. See page 286. 

137. PAGE 413. Motto. Ciceror 

The Spectator deals with the question of master and servant, 
ante. No. 107. The letters of Ralph Valet and Patience Giddy 
call to mind some of the points in Swift's Directions to Servants. 

PAGE 415. The five Fields towards Chelsea, on the site of the modem 
Belgravia and Pimlico. This was a favourite country walk 
towards Chelsea, even though it was, as Mr. Bickerstaff tells us, 
a place ‘where the Robbers lie in wait.’ See Taller, No. 34. 

138. PAGE 416. Motto. Cicero, De Ojficiis, ii. v. 

Tully tells us. De Inventione Rhetorica. 

PAGE 417. Dr. Beveridge, Bishop of St. Asaph {1637-1708). 

PAGE 418. The Advertisement is the sequel to the petition on 
page 406. 

Charles Lillie. See page 539. 

Garraway's. See page 514. Also Nos. 403 and 457; Tatler, 
No. 147; Steele's Tender Husband, ii. i. 

139. Motto. ’Cicero, De Officiis, ii. xii. 43. 

PAGE 420. Mechanick Employments. See the reference to Dept¬ 
ford, ante, page 410. 

The Colours in the Hall were those taken at Blenheim. 

The Perfection of Glory, etc. Cicero, Philippics, i. 

PAGE 421. August 1711, when Marlborough passed the French 
lines on his march on Bouchain. 

140. Motto. Virgil,/Iiv. 285. Steele prints it thus: 
curis nunc hue nunc dividit iUuc. 

PAGE 422. Account of Wit. See pages 176 et sqq. 

Imitators of Milton. E.g. John Philips in his Cyder. 

PAGE 423. Mr. Lillie’s. See page 418. 

PAGE 424. Ombre Table. See page 322 and note. 

PAGE 425. Parthenia. See note to page 285. 

X41. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 187-8. 

PAGE 426. Moll White. See page 357. 

Shadwell’s comedy The Lancashire Witches, and Tegue 
O’Divelly, the Irish Priest, produced in 1681, had, according to 
Downes, 'several Machines of flyings for the Witches.’ It was 
acted at the Haymarket (July 1707) 'with all the risings, sink¬ 
ings, and flyings of the Witches.' Performances at Drury Lane 
are advertised in Nos. 132, 137, 144, etc. {A). Steele refers to 
episodes in Acts iv and v. 

Ben Johnson and Bullock, actors. See B. I. 

Bellenden's translation of Hector Boece's Historia Scotorum 
supplied many of the details of Holinshed’s Chronicle, from 
which Shakespeare borrowed. 

PAGE 427. But Shakespeare’s Magick. Dryden and Davenant's 
Tempest, Prologue, 19-20, 

Design whate’er. The concluding line of Act v of The 
Lancashire Witches. 

Hans Carvel, by Prior. Steele quotes lines ii~i2, but puts 
the verbs in the present tense. 



NOTES 563 

PAGB 427. / am, etc. John Hughes is said to have written this 
letter. 

I42. PAGE 428. Motto. Horace, Odes, i. xiii. 18. 

Steele's phrase ‘being genuine’ ne('d not be interpreted by 
the note on page 514, for the originals have been preserved. 
They were addressed by Steele to his wife, ‘Dear Prue/ four 
years previously, not forty. They are printed in Nichols's 
edition of the Epistolary Correspondence. The letter dated 
'Aug. 7, 1671 ’ reproduces the letter of ‘Aug. 22, 1707' (Nichols, 
i. 105) verbatim, with the change of ‘Madam’ for ‘Mrs. Scur- 
lock* at the close. The letter of ‘Sept. 3' is that of Aug. 16 
(altered to Aug. 23), 1707 (Nichols, i. 97). The interpolation 
'Though I made,' etc., is added on the MS. The letter of 
‘ Sept. 25' is that of Sept, i, 1707 (Nichols, i. log). The sentence 

' 'The two next,' etc., is added on the MS. In the original, 
‘ Holland ’ reads ' Lisbon '; ' Windsor,' ' Hampton-court '; ‘ She 
designs to go with me,' 'It will be on Tuesday come se'nnight'‘, 
'the appointed day,' 'that day.' After 'composure' the original 
reads; ‘Oh Lovcl 

A thousand Torments dwell about thee, 

Yet who would Live, to Live without thcc?’ 

The letter ‘of Sept. 30' is that of Sept. 3, 1707 (Nichols, i. m). 
The next letter, of ‘Oct. 20,' is that of Aug. 30, 1707 (Nichol.s, i. 
108), on the MS. of which is added, 'He was, when he writ,' etc. 
The last letter, dated ‘June 23,’ had been written quite recently, 
on June 20 (Nichols, i. 218). 

J43. PAGE 431. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, vi. Ixx. 15. 

PAGE 432. Valetudinarians. See note, page 528. 

Cottilus and Uranius have been unmasked by ingenious 
editors. The former is said to be Henry Martyn (of No. 555), 
who had a house at Blackheath 'perhaps called his Cot,' and 
the latter ‘was probably Mr. John Hughes'! See No. 180. 

PAGE 433. How-d'ye Servants. A howd’ee was the colloquial term 
for a servant whose duty it was to pass this phrase of formal 
civility to his master’s friends. Cf. Bridget Howd'ee, the ‘ lively 
serving wench ’ of the Taller (No. 245). ‘ I have been returning,' 

says Swift, in his Journal to Stella, ‘the visits of those that sent 
howdees in my sickness’ (loth May 1712). See also Swift's 
Verses on his Own Death, line 123. 

PAGE 434. A great A uthor, etc. Burnet's Theory of the Earth. See 
ante, pages 114 and 440, and notes. 

144. Motto. Terence, Eunuchus, iii. v. 18. 

PAGE 437. Steele's Aniient Sage is Antisthenes, described in 
Diogenes Laertius, vi. i, from whom he borrows his preceding 
learned allusions to Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, Theophrastus, 
and Cameades. 

145. Motto. Horace, Epistles, i. xviii. 29. 

Hudibras, ii. i. 297-8. 

Quoth she, I’ve heard old cunning stagers 
Say, Fools for arguments use wagers. * 

PAGE 439. yoMr Stage Coach. See page 399, 

Sizable Circurnference. Cf. No. 127. ^ 



564 THE SPECTATOR 

146. PAGE 440. Motto. Cicero, De Natura Deorum, li. Ixvi. 166. 

Such is the Entertainment. Cf. pages 517 and 565. 

The Theory of the Earth. Cf. page 563. The quotation to¬ 
wards the close is from in. xi. iio-ii, edition of 1684. 

Cicero tells us. Tusculan Disputations, i. 

147. PAGE 443. Motto, From the pseudo-Ciceronian treatise Rhe- 
torica ad C. Herennium, 1, ii. 

St. James’s Garlick-hill (Garlickhithe), rebuilt in 1676-82, 
was near Thames Street in Vintry Ward. The reader referred to 
is the Rev. Philip Stubbs, afterwards Archdeacon of St. Albans. 

Sion College, London Wall. 

PAGE 444. Pindarick Readers. Cf. page 483 and note, page 543. 

Cant. Steele is out in his etymology. See the Oxford English 
Dictionary. 

PAGE 445. Dr. S - e. Probably Dr. George Smalridge, after¬ 

wards Bishop of Bristol, the 'Favonius' of the 114th Tatler. 
See Austin Dobson's Selections from Steele, page 456. 

Do you read, etc. Si cantas, male cantas; si legis, cantas, a 
saying of Caesar's, quoted by Quintilian, De Institutione Oratoria, 

I. viii. 

148. Motto. Horace, Epistles, il. ii. 212. 

PAGE 446. French and Country Dances. See pages 545-6. 

PAGE 448. For Women, etc. Waller, Of Love, lines 13-16. 

149. PAGE 449. Motto. Cicero, Tusculan Disputations, iv. xxxii. 68. 

150. PAGE 452. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, iii. 152-3. 

Plagues. Budgell probably refers to some pamphlets, now 
difficult to trace. The British Museum Catalogue describes 
an 1800 edition of the Fifteen Plagues of a Footman, Coachman, 
&>c., and also the Pleasures of a Single Life (1701). Cf. The 
Fifteen Comforts, etc., in note, page 533. 

Juvenal, Satires, iii. 147-51. Dryden's translation, lines 
248-55. Scott and Saintsbury's edition reads 'patches’ for 
'patch is.’ 

Want is the Scorn, etc., ib. 

PAGE 453. Sloven. Budgell, the writer of this paper, included a 
translation of The Sloven in his Theophrastus. See page 520. 

A tticus. Did this suggest to Pope his sobriquet for Addison ? 

PAGE 454. Mr. Osbourn. Advice to a Son, i. xxiii. 

151. PAGE 455. Motto. Cicero, De Finibus, ii. xxxv. 117. 

152. PAGE 458. Motto. Homer, Iliad, vi. 146. 

I'AGE 459. A gay Frenchman, etc. 'The anecdote is of the Chevalier 
de Flourilles, killed at Senef in 1674. It is told in the Memoirs 
of Condi (referred to ante, page 268 and note). 

153. PAGE 460. Motto. Cicero, De Senectute, xxiii. 

PAGE 461. My author. Cicero. 

Line 13. So A, but the 1712 text reads ‘a Young.' 

154. PAGE 463. Motto. Juvenal, Satires, ii. 83. 

PAGE 464. Simon Honeycomb's visits to the watering-places are 
in an ascending scale of modishness from Astrop Wells near 
Oxford to Tunbridge and Bath. St. Edmundsbury is the 
scene of Shadwell's Bury Fair; and Epsom Wells gives the title 
to another comedy bv the same hand. 



NOTES 565 

PAGE 466. Great with Tully of late. Cf. note, page 517; also 
page 476. 

155. In A this paper is numbered ‘156,' and subsequent papers 
are incorrectly numbered. Tlije error is rectified from ‘166* 
onwards. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 451. 

Idol. Cf. page 271. 

PAGE 467. New Exchange. See page 299 and note. 

PAGE 469. Your Account of Beauties. See pages 434 et sqq. 

156. Motto. Horace, Odes, n. viii. 

PAGE 470. A common Bite. See }>age 539. 

PAGE 472. Affection. Either in the obsolete sense of affectation^ 
as used by Maria in The School for Scandal (i. i), or a misprint 
for that word, which is given in its usual form on page 22. 

157. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. ii. 187-9. 

PAGE 474. Seneca says. Epistles, xcv (about the middle). 

PAGE 475. That Infamy. Steele is at issue with public opinion, 
which found its most straightforward expression in the later 
utterances of Dr. Johnson (see Birkbeck Hill’s edition of Bos¬ 
well’s Johnson, i. 46, ii. 407, v. 99). Steele returns to the 
'licensed Tyrants, the Schoolmasters’ in No. 168. 

158. Motto. Martial, Epigrams, xiii. ii. 8. 

The Present State of Wit (1711) points out that Steele, instead 
of falling in with the customs of the day, like the other papers 
of the time, took the new course of attacking them. 

PAGE 476. Is the best Rule. ‘Is not the best Rule,' A. 

Your Tully. Cf. page 466 and note. 

PAGE 478. Give me but what, etc. Waller, On a GtVef/e, lines 

159. Motto. Virgil, Aeneid, ii. 604-6. 

Grand Cairo. See note, page 513. 

The Visions of Mirzah. Cf. Steele’s Conscious Lovers, i. ii. i: 

‘These Moral Writers practise Virtue after Death: This 
charming Vision of Mirza\ Such an Author consulted in a 
Morning sets the Spirit for the Vicissitudes of the Day, better 
than the Glass does a Man’s Person.’ 

160. PAGE 482. Motto. Horace, Satires, i. iv. 43-4. 

PAGE 483. Biensiance. Cf. Boileau, L’Art podtique, iii. 122-3. 

Pindaricks. See note to page 444. 

PAGE 485. Terence, Eunuchus, i. i. 16-18. 

Camisars. The name given to the Calvinists of the C^vennea 
during the religious troubles following the revocation of the 
Edict of Nantes. They are represented in the waxwork of 
English religions in the 257th Tatler. They were known as the 
French Prophets (page 524). See also Tatler, No. ii. 

161. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, ii. 527-34- 

PAGE 486. Like Caelia. As You Like It, i. ii. 190, 

PAGE 488. Dr. Kennet. Parochial Antiquities (1695), pages 610 
et sqq. 

162. Motto. Hox^.ce, Ars Poetica, 126-7. 

PAGE 490. Character in Horace. Satires, i. iii. 3-19. 

Character ... by Mr. Dryden. The well-known description 
of George, Duke of Buckingham, in Absalom and Achitophel 
(i. 544-54)- 



THE SPECTATOR 


566 

163. PAGE 491. Motto. Cicero, De Senectute, i. 

PAGE 492. Leonora. See note to page 285. 

Monsieur St. Evremont. See page 531. 

164. PAGE 494. Motto. Virgil, Georgies, iv. 494, 497-8. 

PAGE 498. They were lovely, etc. 2 Samuel, i. 23. 

Langhorne has a short poem entitled Theodosius to Constantia 
(1760), and two volumes of the Correspondence of Theodosius 
and Constantia {1764-5), which were suggested by this paper. 

165. PAGE 499. Motto. Horace, Ars Poetica, 48, 50-1. The motto 
in A was Semivirumque bovem, semibovemque virum (misquoted 
from Ovid, Ars Amatoria, ii. 24). 

Cf. the attack on French fopperies, pages 136 et sqq.; also 
Dennis’s Essay upon Public Spirit (1711), page 13. Tliis paper 
occasioned a pamphlet. The Spectator Inspected or A Letter to 
the Spectator from an Officer in Flanders. 

PAGE 500. Virgil, Georgies, iii. 25. Addison printed ‘ Atque inter- 
texti tollantf etc. Dryden's translation, lines 39-40. 

Great Modern Critick. Bentley. See Jebb's Bentley, page 174. 

166. PAGE 502. Motto. Ovid, Metamorphoses, xv. 871-2. 

PAGE 503. This anecdote of the Freethinker is cousin german to 
that of 'the Atheist' in the Toiler, No. in. Steele’s further 
attacks on the 'Minute Philosophers' in the Toiler, and in 
No. 234 of the Spectator, have been supposed to be directed 
against John ('Janus Junius') Toland (1669-1722), author of 
the Pantheisticon (1705), whom Pope satirized in The Dunciad 
(ii* 399 . iii* 212). 

167. PAGE 504. Motto. Horace, Epistles, 11. ii. 128-40. 

PAGE 505, Unable to contain himself. See No. 136, 

PAGE 506. Almanzor like. As that character in Dryden's Alman- 
xor and Almahide or The Conquest of Granada. See Drawcansir, 
ante, page 51, and note. 

PAGE 507. Vitruvius. The original of this nom de guerre is 
referred to on pages 502 and 558. 

168. Motto. Horace, Epistles, ii. i. 128. 

Licensed Tyrants the Schoolmasters. See No. 157. 

Quintilian. De Institutione Oratorio, 1. iii. 

The very great School is Eton. The master was Dr. Charles 
Roderick, afterwards Provost of King’s College, Cambridge. 

PAGE 508. The school at Richmond was under the charge of Dr. 
Nicholas Brady, who, with Tate, versified the Psalms. 

PAGE 509. The Water-works. This is 'the famous Water Theatre 
of the ingenious Mr. Winstanly,' which is frequently advertised 
by his widow in the original issue. It stood at the lower end 
of Piccadilly, and was known' by the Wind-mill on the Top of it.' 

169. PAGE 510. Motto. Terence, Andria, i. i. 35-9. 

PAGE 511. Xenophon. Cyropaedia, viii. vii. 25. 

Salust. Sallust, Bellum Catilinarium, Ivii.
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